The Last of the Peverells
by Arcturus Peverell
Summary: On Halloween 1981, Sirius Black left Britain with Harry Potter. Now, fourteen years later, a young man is back to take back his legacy. Only one question remains : Is the price worth it? Family Magic. AU. Harry Potter/ Daphne Greengrass.
1. The Story begins

**September 1st, 1995.**

"BLAISE! THEO! TORI! Come quickly! The train is leaving!"

The platform 9-and-3-quarters at King's Cross station was overflowing with throngs of wizards and witches on the annual departure to Hogwarts on September the first. The familiar scarlet and black steam locomotive appeared as eye-catching and majestic as always among the red brick stones that made up the platform. Grey smoke drifted from the chimney of the train, passing over the throngs of people across the platform. Several first years found the train both exciting and awe-inspiring as it was their ticket to a year of learning at the famous school of magic in all of Wizarding Britain. Older students were milling about with their friends and family or reserving compartments on the train while parents were helping them with their luggage or saying goodbye to their children. Kneazles of all sizes and colors were roaming across the platform while owls hooted from their cages with some of them flying over the platform. In simple terms, the atmosphere of the platform hadn't changed due to the events at the end of the last school year or the summer after.

During the month of June, the death of a student at the last task of the Tri-wizard tournament, while a cause of grief, did not come as a shock due to the very nature of the tournament. But the end-of-the-year announcement of Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, stating that the death was caused by a resurrected Lord Voldemort was met with a massive wave of disbelief, with most of the families and students shouting that he had gone around the bend. The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, and his Senior Undersecretary, Dolores Umbridge, alongside the various heads of departments and several prominent Nobles had issued statements throughout the summer stating that Dumbledore was spreading lies among the population and causing fear to ensure his appointment as the Minister of Magic. While the summer had been quite tumultuous for the British wizarding world, it was unable to affect the excitement of the students returning for a new school year.

At the ten-minute mark to departure, a whistle was heard throughout the platform, the sound maintaining a pleasant and audible quality, achieved through a modified sonorous charm. Students began boarding the train with their pets with families arriving in the last few minutes hurrying their charges into available compartments. Parents and guardians were shouting their farewells while students were waving from the windows.

Amidst all of the commotion was Tracey Davis, a fifth year Slytherin, shouting to her friends to get onto the train. She possessed a heart-shaped face, sparkling hazel eyes, curly black hair with a reddish-golden tinge to the tips and a rather melodious voice. She was standing next to the door of a carriage, raising her voice to ensure her friends could hear her over the din of the platform.

"BLAISE! TORI! COME IMMEDIATELY OR I'M BOARDING WITHOUT YOU!"

"COMING MOTHER!" A unison of two voices, one mature and snarky with the other cheerful and excited, shouted out to Tracey in response. The mature voice to Blaise Zabini, a tall, tan and lean boy of fifteen-going-on-sixteen and fellow fifth-year in Slytherin. He belonged to the Zabini family that held a notorious reputation in Italy, and were rumoured to have come to Britain after the defeat of Grindelwald to get a feel for Magical Britain, with possible ideas for expansion and setting up… discrete business ventures.

The excited voice belonged to Astoria Greengrass, the youngest daughter of the Greengrass family; the Noble and Ancient House of Greengrass, to be exact. Said girl was thirteen, and was awaiting her third year at Hogwarts. She had blonde hair, just like her mother with hazel eyes, and a round face with expressions that was considered adorable. The Greengrass family held itself to a strict reputation of being staunchly neutral. Politically, the Lord espoused the view of the traditionalists, but refused to practice bigotry against muggleborns or magical races. The family stayed away from the Press; a very convenient advantage that the Lord Greengrass had acquired by buying twenty percent of the Daily Prophet, the leading newspaper in the Wizarding World of Britain. The family owed its wealth to the various investments and shares in a variety of magical and mundane companies.

While Blaise and Astoria, also known as 'Tori' to her friends and family, approached Tracey and began managing their luggage, Tracey's boyfriend, Theodore Nott, another Slytherin in her year, appeared at the door to the carriage. Theodore, also known as Theo to his well-knit group of friends, was a fifteen-year old Slytherin much like Blaise, and was the younger son of Lord Nott of the Noble and Ancient Family of Nott. A bibliophile by nature, the black-haired boy with sharp, brown eyes that betrayed his intelligence was considered an honorary Ravenclaw by the head of said house, Filius Flitwick. He had reserved a compartment and had been calling out to his friends to enter the carriage for the past half-hour so that he could get back to his books while also ensuring that he did not anger his girlfriend, in case she believed he was ignoring her.

Tracey, as she had done for the past hour, would give a mature response befitting her age and blew a raspberry at him;

Theo looked like a typical harassed boyfriend and rolled his eyes at the last minute preparations of his friends. "Why won't you just come in, Trace? How long do you people need?" Theo asked, his forehead furrowed in impatience.

"Just a minute, Teddy." Tracey countered, not even dignifying her boyfriend's question by turning towards him.

Theo looked heavenward for some divine intervention. "Fine!" He gritted his teeth and went back to the compartment.

Tracey just rolled her eyes at her boyfriend's lack of patience and continued checking the luggage. Once she and her friends had completed their checks, she looked around before shouting out to her missing best friend. "DAPHNE!"

"COMING TRACE!" The melodious sound reverberated amidst the sounds of the crazy throngs of the crowd on the platform. The voice belonged to Daphne Greengrass, the elder daughter of the Greengrass family and a fifth-year Slytherin. A little about five-ten in height, the young girl had luxuriant long, sleek raven-black hair with icy-blue eyes, a slightly chiselled beautiful face with a long nose and soft-looking full pink lips. She was dressed in a dragon hide jacket with black tights covering her long legs and blue trainers with emerald earrings. She quickly bade farewell to her father and ran towards her best friend, knowing very well that Tracey would not call on her unless the train was just about to leave. Joining her friends and sister, they boarded the train and went off to find their compartment.

The train let out another whistle and began to slowly move along the tracks. Families were waving their hands in goodbye to their children, some of them with tear-filled voices. The older students, like Daphne and her friends, merely sat back and relaxed in their compartment to enjoy the eight-hour journey to their school.

* * *

Finding their compartment, and Theo, who had his reading-glasses stuck on his nose and immersed in a book on defensive magic, Daphne and the friends, along with her sister, entered the compartment, stashed their luggage in the overhead racks and eased themselves onto the seats. Daphne took the window seat opposite to Theo while Tracey sat beside her boyfriend who was concentrating on the book in his hands. Blaise sat next to Daphne with Tori stashing her luggage on the overhead racks. Once she was sure that her bag was stored properly in the rack along with her sister's, she ran out of the compartment and went to find her friends.

Tracey was eager to begin a conversation – it was her not-so subtle attempt at trying to deviate her boyfriend from his book – and began chatting excitedly with Daphne. "So Daph, ready for your OWL year? I am still getting the creeps for it. OWL exams are supposed to be tough after all."

Daphne gave out a shudder at the thought. "I will have to start right away. We were away for most of the vacation and I hardly had time to finish the homework. It will be a surprise if I even manage to score an EE this time."

"Oh, sod off Daph!" Blaise commented, rolling his eyes at her response. "Everyone knows that you will probably get the highest scores in Slytherin House. If it wasn't for Granger, you would probably get the highest score in the entire school. I am still not sure how Granger does what she does."

Blaise was thinking of Granger's reputation at school. She was a muggleborn who held strong pro-muggle views while managing to ignore the student's taunts and comments on her and scoring her highest in her year. It was simply on the list of unbelievable achievements he thought could be possible by her.

While his friends knew of his interest in Granger, Daphne was the only one, so far, to realise there was another reason for it. Blaise harboured a tiny crush for the muggleborn girl, although he was quiet about it. Daphne knew that if his romantic interest in her was known to her house, both Blaise and Granger would quickly become targets. So she kept her deductions to herself. She was quickly snapped out of her musing on Blaise's crush by Tracey's query.

"And what about your secret boyfriend, Daph?" Tracey asked with a contagious grin.

Daphne's eyes widened, her calm composure shattered due to her surprise at Tracey's question on her love. Her eyes narrowed in anger, wishing for Tracey to evaporate on the spot. Tracey, however, merely gave an excited grin at her reaction.

"TRACIIIIEEE!" Daphne's voice hit a pitch strong enough to shatter eardrums and even Theo, flinching at her reaction, could feel the mixture of embarrassment and humiliation present in Daphne's loud rebuttal. It was quite different from the normally silent and cold front she presented at Hogwarts.

"What?" Tracey countered back with a characteristic drawl, a grin on her face.

"Do you remember anything about our talk to 'never-speak-anything-about-it-until-I-tell-you'?" Daphne accused, her lips thinned and icy blue eyes flaring in anger. A dragon-breeder would have easily compared her expression with that of an angry dragon, her voice close to growling, eyes narrowed, lips thinned to the point of vanishing and her stare - her dangerous icy stare - all focused on Tracey. Needless to say, the fact that Tracey had not evaporated away was quite a magical feat in itself.

"But he is coming to Hogwarts this year anyway!" Tracey defended herself.

"That doesn't give you the right to spill the beans." Daphne near-snarled.

"But it is your boyfriend, and we all deserve to-" Tracey's words stopped midway, as she felt Daphne's cold, unforgiving stare right on her. "Theo!" She snatched the book from his hand, much to his indignation, "Back me up!"

"Back you up in what?" Theo countered in annoyance at his book being stolen from his hands.

"Oh, you are useless!" Tracey waved him off, throwing the book back at him. Returning Daphne with her own mocking stare, she continued. "Since he is coming to Hogwarts anyway, I don't understand what the bloody big deal is!"

"The big deal is that he wanted it to be a silent matter, especially considering the political atmosphere in Britain." Daphne hissed.

"Hey! Could someone tell me the story as well. Who is this secret lover that our ice-queen over here hid from us?" Blaise intervened. Daphne blushed slightly at the 'lover' comment and Tracey gave out a whooping laugh at her expression.

Seeing Daphne, the frigid ice queen of Slytherin, blush, Blaise's eyebrows shot up. "Okay, now I'm seriously interested. Daphne is blushing. That is one of the things on my list of impossibilities."

Daphne rolled her eyes and gave out a long-suffering sigh. Giving into the demands of her friends, she responded "His name is Ares James Black."

Silence permeated the compartment at her answer. Tracey seemed excited at finally learning the name of her best friend's boyfriend and thoughtful upon hearing his last name. Theo, whose book was lying on his lap, and Blaise's eyebrows furrowed in thought and silently exchanged looks before Theo questioned Daphne, a note of disbelief and curiosity in his voice. "Correct me if I am wrong, but perchance, does Black refer to Sirius Black, the last of the Blacks who had deserted Britain after the last war?"

Daphne nodded. "Ares Black is the adopted son and heir of Sirius Black. Apart from that, he also has another name, one which you are very intimately familiar with. His birth parents had named him, and you might know him, as Harry Potter. "

" _Harry Potter_ is your boyfriend?" Blaise returned, punctuating his words in disbelief.

"He prefers being called Ares, but well- yes, he is." Daphne answered.

"Interesting. Heir Apparent of Potter and… Black." Theo grinned. "Malfoy will be devastated."

"The prat was boasting about his Black inheritance due on his sixteenth birthday." Blaise laughed.

Daphne smirked.

"Hold on!" Tracey interrupted. "You said that your boyfriend also held a Lordship of another Ancient House, but it wasn't Potter or Black, and I will shut up now." She completed, her face white at Daphne's glare. "Damn! me and my big mouth!"

"What's she referring to, Daph?" Blaise asked, his eyes brimming with interest.

Daphne sighed. She considered it. Knowing her boyfriend, it wouldn't be a secret for much longer since he had every plan to reveal it publicly. However, he had also asked her to keep it secret until he decided to reveal it. She looked at the inquisitive stares her friends gave her.

 _Damn you Tracey!_

"Okay," She returned in a resigned tone. "I will tell you, but I need your word that you all will keep it secret."

The entire compartment was instantly flooded with a sparkling bluish sheen as three secrecy oaths took effect.

Daphne sighed. She hoped that her decision wouldn't complicate matters. "Harry Potter, or should I say, Ares Black- holds another Lordship." She paused.

"Slytherin."

"WHAAAT?" A unison of three voices boomed in the compartment, loud enough for Daphne to flinch tightly, eyes closed, at the sudden yelling from three quarters of the compartment. Opening her eyes back, she smirked at the stupefied faces of her friends and relaxed into her seat.

"Lord _Slytherin_? But you never mentioned that to me!" Tracey complained, a hint of anger in her tone.

Daphne smirked at her best friend. "And give you the chance to blab it out to the _entire_ school? No way!"

"But how come we have never heard of him before?" questioned Blaise, head cocked in thought and open curiosity in his voice. "All we know is that Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived-" He rolled his eyes at the title "-had miraculously off'ed the dark lord in 1981. After that night, he was taken away and no one knew where he was. Just that Sirius Black was supposed to be behind the disappearance, although it was never proved as Sirius Black had never returned to Britain."

Daphne stared at her friends in thought before responding to Blaise. "Sirius Black had taken Harry away to Bulgaria, and had him educated at personal cost and choice. Harry has pursued his magical education in private for years."

"So why is he coming back to Hogwarts NOW?" Theo asked, his book completely forgotten on his lap and mind racing at the thought of the upcoming political changes within the student body when the Boy-Who-Lived appears in Hogwarts.

"Because the Ministry of Magic has made it mandatory that all Lords of Noble and Ancient Houses must have passed their OWLS and NEWTS from here in Britain in order to take their seats in the Wizengamot. And also, because I-" Daphne blushed at the memory "-might have convinced him into coming."

"Convinced, eh? I am wondering what the _convincing_ might have entailed." Tracey winked at her best friend.

"Oh hush you!" Daphne admonished, a smile on her lips.

"So where is he?" Blaise asked.

"I don't know. He informed me that he would be seeing me at Hogwarts. Said he'd be sorting out priorities or something." She shrugged.

* * *

Five compartments away, a tall, lean young man slept soundly on his seat, his legs stretched out towards the other seat and his back resting on the hard wall of the compartment and a book lying open on his chest and his luxuriant jet-black hair nearly covering his eyes. He was around six-feet in height and wore dragon-hide boots and an acromantula silk dueller's robe. The dark green dragon hide jacket that he wore suited his white shirt. His travels though the realm of Morpheus were completely undisturbed from any happenings in the carriage.

A knock sounded at the door.

He slept on.

Another loud knock.

He did not stir.

The door banged open and three boys entered the compartment. The middle boy, a pale blonde of similar height to Daphne, and the two heavy-set boys beside him stared at the young man who did not wake up despite the noise. The pale blonde stared down at the sleeper and smirked, his wand easily slipping into his hand. Pointing his wand towards the still sleeping young man and waving it in a swirly fashion, he whispered _"Aguamenti!"_

Aguamenti. The water-summoning spell. A conjuration spell taught during the fifth year to Hogwarts students. Like most elemental conjurations, the power of the spell depended on the caster, with most casters summoning a small stream of water while more powerful casters could conjure a torrential geyser. Water conjured through the spell would gush out through the tip of the wand in the direction it was pointed towards.

The pale blonde, Draco Malfoy, cast the spell to create a surprise a wake-up call for the compartment's sole occupant who had rudely ignored his presence and continued to sleep.

Therefore, it was quite a shock when the water flowed halfway from his wand towards the sleeping young man, seemed to stop midway and then flew back, drenching Draco completely. The two heavyset boys beside him, his bodyguards, did not know what to do, and thus, as usual, stared blankly, waiting for precise directions from their leader.

Quickly getting over his surprise and confusion, Draco snarled at the still sleeping boy and yelled "What the hell?! WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!"

Emerald eyes sprang open as the now awake young man slowly looked up at the faces of the intruders in his compartment and was quite confused - and a bit amused as well - as to why the blonde in front of him was drenched. Then he remembered how his repellent ward was suddenly triggered.

"I suppose you-" The young man began to speak, but was cut off by the angry ramblings of the drenched and obviously incensed blonde. His face suddenly filled up with a grin, deducing that the angry blonde had encroached upon the compartment had tried to bully him by trying to drench him with water; well, the clues pointed in that direction.

"Apologies. I did not hear you enter, and I did not catch your name. Who might you be?" The boy with emerald-green eyes asked genially.

Draco looked at the green-eyed young man as if he was a strange insect. "You are riding this train and you don't know me! Obviously, you are a _mudblood_ , but you seem too old for a firstie."

The young man brushed aside the 'mudblood' comment. Magical Britain was indeed overflowing with bigoted purists and it was obvious that he would encounter it himself. There were plenty of people willingly, and ignorantly, swayed by the powers the bigots held in Britain.

"I am not a firstie as you said, but yes, I am not from here. Home-schooled, actually."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, a sneer appearing on his lips. "So you are a mudblood. Stand up and let me lie down and relax for a while."

The young man, Ares, raised his eyebrow. This blonde _idiot_ , whoever he was, was quite arrogant. Giving his trademarked cocky grin, he inclined his head towards his left shoulder and eyed the blonde. "I'm not sure I got your name."

Looking incensed, Draco's sneer became more pronounced, if that was possible, and pompously stated "I am Draco Malfoy, Heir to the Noble House of Malfoy, and the soon-to-be Lord Black. Now get off the seats, you filthy mudblood."

Ares' forehead furrowed. What was this imbecile saying? He had lived with Sirius all his life and Sirius never mentioned having a bastard child. Unless his-

"Are you deaf? I told you to stand!" Draco ordered, his fists curling at the young man's seeming indifference to him and his station.

Ares sighed and stood up. Facing the blonde and looking at him in the eye, he replied, a hint of steel in his voice. "Listen up, you overgrown monkey. Go back into your compartment and rest. Please remember for your own benefit- _Never_ proclaim anything unless you are sure of it. Now please..." he relaxed back into his previous position before the blonde walked in. "Get out."

"Wha-" Draco started to refute, but an invisible force hurled him and his bodyguards outside the compartment as the door shut with a resounding thud while Ares cast several wards to ensure that he was undisturbed for the rest of the journey.

Draco and his henchmen fell down on the floor while the door closed in front of his face. He stood up quickly and began pounding the door, casting all the unlocking charms he knew. When the charms failed, he resorted to blasting curses on the door.

But the door remained unaffected and remained closed.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: (Dated 20-12-2017) Firstly! Hey guys! I am back, completed rejuvenated after being in stasis for quite some time, and well, Me and my co-author, Skadarken (previously Skadarken-Weiss) decided to go all** _ **tabula-rasa**_ **and recreate the story from its primitive origins into something much more… sophisticated. Although the initial divergence from the original text will be faint in the initial chapters, you will begin to spot the divergence with the next couple of chapters soon enough.**

 **And now, hopefully I have answered your condescending question of "Why did you go to rewrite it, moron?" and well, see you in the next chapter.**

 **Skadarken pontificating in his usual and less-obvious sarcasm:**

For those wish to know how the rewrite came about:

AP: You know what, let's rewrite the entire story.

Me: You sure?

AP: Yes. Needs a bit of work, anyway.

Me: Okay. Let's do it.

AP: Cool.

*Discussion ensues*

 **Anybody looking for a deeper meaning to the rewrite, please understand AP and Me are two normal guys (Read: We are closet occultists with a fetish for books) just looking to have some fun.**

 **Romance. Drama. Adventure. Tragedy. Angst. Horror. Humour.**

 **The current version shall contain all the above genres, unless my fellow author, Arcturus, decides the story needs more improvement. In which case, I not so sincerely apologise f-**

 ***THUD***

 **Arcturus: Phew. I never thought he'd shut up. Don't worry, guys. It's just a stunning spell. He'll be up in a few hours.** _ **Unfortunately**_ **.**

 **Well, enjoy the story, people. Don't forget to review. WE do appreciate them.**


	2. Halloween 1981

**October 31, 1981**

 **Potter Cottage, Godric's Hollow**

A long stream of smoke was visible on his flightpath through the night sky.

It was a rather cold Halloween night, with the chill seeping into the bone. That evening, Sirius had been in charge of surveillance of a Death Eater outpost on the eastern edge of Edinburgh. After greeting and informing the next shift about the changes in the outpost movements, a tired Sirius had apparated home and threw his coat on the hangar and dragon hide boots on the stand in the entry corridor, intent on grabbing a beer and heading to his bedroom.

Walking into his bedroom and turning on the bulb, Sirius pulled off his shirt and threw it into the nearest hamper. Turning towards the wardrobe, his eyes caught sight of the photo frame on the table next to the bed. His eyes softened at the sight of an eight-month-old Harry and him playing on the floor of Potter cottage and a smile rose on his face.

Debating the merits of a good night's sleep versus seeing his godson in a rather cute costume that Prongs and Lily would have dressed him up in, Sirius knew there was no choice to be made. Taking a quick shower and dressed in a fresh black shirt and blue pants, Sirius walked out of his house, grabbing his coat and boots on the way. Pulling the coat over his shoulders and his boots onto his feet, he stopped at the sight of his bike, a 1979 Harley Davidson FXS Low Rider, parked next to the garage door. Remembering the fun Harry had on the one time had ridden on his bike, Sirius decided to drive to Godric's Hollow, wondering if Lily would allow another ride. _Then again, Lily might just hex me for suggesting the idea._ _The thought brought a grin to his face._

Starting his bike and channelling his magic through the runes carved on it, Sirius activated the various notice-me-not charms and quickly drove onto the road before taking to the sky and activating the disillusionment charm, angled the bike in the direction of Godric's Hollow and accelerated, thoughts of Prongs and his family running through his mind.

On approaching close to Godric's Hollow, Sirius spotted a stream of smoke rising over the houses. Realising with mind-numbing horror that the smoke was rising from the location of his friend's cottage, all thoughts of a warm night in front of a fireplace were wiped from his mind and a mild panic attack nearly took over.

Engaging the afterburner and channelling as much of his magic as he could through the bike, Sirius, eyes narrowed, quickly approached the cottage, praying to magic that his friends and godson were safe. Auror instincts kicking in, Sirius approached the cottage and circled around the house, noticing the destruction wreaked on it.

Smoke from the fires that were still burning on the roof rose up high. The roof of the nursery had partially caved in and the wall looked like it had been hit with a blasting curse, pieces of debris lying on the front lawn and road. The front door was in pieces and the windows of the main hall seemed to have blown outwards due to some great force. Part of the back wall of the cottage had collapsed, allowing him to glimpse the kitchen.

Fighting down the rising panic with all his will, Sirius quickly brought the bike down onto the road in front of the house. Quickly dismounting and drawing his wand from his holster, Sirius slowly approached the front gate, casting as many detection spells as he could. He could detect no curses or dark objects on the path to the front door and none of the wards seemed to be active. Passing through the front gate, he could feel the wards in tatters. Approaching the front door, his final detection spell gave him the locations of two living beings in the house. The thought almost brought his heart to a standstill.

 _Prongs! Lily! Harry!_

Wrestling down the panic that seemed ready to bubble to the surface, Sirius walked through the remains of the front door and stopped at the sight of the wreck of a living room, his eyes quickly cataloguing the room. The sofas and armchairs were lying in pieces across the room. Part of the fireplace appeared to have been hit with a blasting curse. The tea table was upended, the cushions couldn't be seen and several metal spikes were embedded on the wall beside the front door. All in all, a major battle appeared to have taken place in the room

But Sirius could not focus on any of these details, his attention arrested at the right of his best friend on the floor, dust over his face with his glasses shattered and left eye bleeding, lying under a pile of the wooden beams that had collapsed from the roof of the living room, blood pooling beneath the wood.

" **James!** _"_

James appeared to move, before his remaining eye, the right eye, focused on his friend, a smile rising on his face, lips and chin smeared with blood and cuts. "Siri-" A hacking cough cut of the rest of his words.

Shocked out of his stupor by his friend's voice, Sirius rushed towards James, his wand moving on instinct, levitating the collapsed pile off James and throwing to towards the far wall on the left.

" **JAMES!** _"_

"Siri-" James tried to speak, his voice filled with pain but was cut off by another coughing fit.

"James, I'm here! Don't worry! Everything will be alright! I'll get you, Lily and Harry to Mungo's. Don't worry. You'll be right as rain soon." Sirius rambled, trying to keep his friend awake and lifting the remaining wood off James, both with his hands and his wand.

James smiled at his words, trying to keep his remaining eye open and regain his breath to continue speaking.

Lifting the last of the wood and throwing it away, Sirius knelt next to James, lifting his head onto his lap, his left hand latching to James' hand, his wand waving over him off, clearing the dust off his face. "James, keep your eyes open. Don't you dare die on me!"

James gave a weak smile and at his words. "It's over, Padfoot. I lost. Voldemo- cough! The wanker defeated me in the fight!" James tried to give a grin, but let out another blood-filled cough. Sirius didn't look like he was about to give up on him, holding his hand tightly and his wand waving over his friend. "I am dying, Pad. Got hit by a blood boiling curse. I want yo—cough—I want you to know something!"

"Anything!" was his friend's reply, tears streaming down his face while his wand continued to cast as many diagnostic charms as he knew.

"Lily and I... We knew Pettigrew betrayed us." The statement sent an overwhelming amount of guilt through Sirius, knowing he had suggested the traitor for the role of secret keeper. "We knew that we were in danger – cough - we set up a final failsafe-" James coughed out more blood and Sirius held him together, his grip tightening on his hand. "Can't tru-trust Dumbledore. Take Harry away—away from Brit-cough! Make him a marauder-teach him-old friend! Pad! Promise me! Promise me!" James seemed hysterical by the end of his words.

"I promise!" Sirius's eyes were clouded with tears, weeping freely at the sight of his friend dying in his arms. "I will take Harry away! I will take care of him as my own son. I promise you, Prongs! Marauder's oath!"

James let out a blood-stained grin. "Lily is dead upstairs." James let out a breath of despair at the words, breaking Sirius' heart. "The dark wanker-cough-" Sirius could not help but grin at James' description. "He is destroyed, I think. Lily and I – Looks like our plan-cough-might have succeeded. Take Harry away - teach him - keep him safe."

"I will Prongs! I swear on my life!" Sirius tightened his grip on James at his words, hoping against hope that James would still live.

"My-cough-my wand!" James lifted his bloodied right arm a few inches of the ground, the effort showing on his face, and pointed a finger towards the fireplace before his arm drooped to the ground.

Sirius summoned James' wand out of the rubble and placed it gingerly in his bloodied hand.

"Summon - summon the trunk inside-cough-the closet" James pointed Sirius towards a closet on the far left wall. Sirius did as he instructed and a brand new trunk burst out of the closet, splintering the door in the process with Sirius immediately banishing the splinters. James turned his face, slowly, towards the trunk. "For you - and Harry - take it - take it!" He shoved his wand into Sirius's numb fingers.

James took a deep shuddering breath. "Harry is - the last of the - the Peverells-cough- He should-come back-cough-reclaim his heritage–his-hallow and-thestral-cough-hidden" James began coughing and spewing out a lot of blood.

"James! James! Don't give up! James!" Sirius held onto James, tears streaming his face and desperately willing him to live.

James gave him a lop-sided grin, a tear landing on his cheek.

"Mischief-managed!"

The light left James' eyes as Sirius' widened in horror and overwhelming grief.

"James! James! **JAMES!** " Sirius roared his friend's name in rage, grief and sorrow, his magic reacting to his emotions, the objects around the room being thrown in a whirlwind of magic.

A few minutes passed in a storm of magic permeating the room with Sirius' sorrow before he finally gained control over his emotions and his magic. Sirius wanted to stay where he was, he wanted to protect what was left of his friend. But he had promised James he would protect Harry; that he would raise him as his son.

Looking at his friend for the last time, Sirius gently closed his friend's eyes - his grief nearly overwhelming him - and placed his head on the ground, collected the trunk and James' wand, shrunk both the items and placed them into his inner coat pockets.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself and wiping his eyes with his left hand, Sirius slowly walked up the stairs, wand out and all his senses on high alert for any ambushers in wait, the stairs creaking with every step.

 _Lily! Harry!_

The thought of his friend and godson nearly drove him to his knees. Taking another deep breath to fortify himself, Sirius arrived upstairs and approached the destroyed door of the nursery.

* * *

As soon as he walked in, instincts still running, his eyes roamed over the room, taking in the blown out wall to the right, a part of the roof blown outwards, a black tattered and charred cloak lying on the floor and to the left, an auburn haired woman lyi-

The last thought brought a complete halt to his mind, forcing Sirius to focus on the woman he had considered a dear friend and a sister. Lily was lying on her back on the floor, her dress in tatters and several deep gashes across the chest, her right arm shattered with blood pooling on the floor from the still bleeding wounds. A broken wand lay next to her.

The sight of her lifeless eyes drove Sirius to his knees. Tears streamed down his face and he reached a hand out to touch her face. Just as his hand reached out, he registered the crying sound of a baby.

 _HARRY!_

Sirius whipped his head towards the crib, watching a one-year-old Harry, a bleeding wound on the right side of his forehead, tears streaking his face and an arm outstretched towards the lifeless body of his mother through the fence of the crib.

 _Harry was... still alive..._

The thought snapping him out of his state of sorrow and pushing his grief back to deal with it later, Sirius rushed towards the crib, holstered his wand, and lifted a sobbing Harry into his arms, slowly speaking in a soothing voice. "Prongslet! Prongslet! I'm here, don't cry!"

The baby seemed to realize who he was. "Pa 'foo?"

Sirius let out a heart-felt laugh, which sounded more like a whimper. _Harry was all right!_

"Shush! Shush Prongslet! Padfoot is here for you... Padfoot will make everything all right!" Sirius gently shook Harry, hoping to sooth him.

The little boy seemed to understand and gave him a rather happy squeak, blood and tears streaking his face.

Sirius felt a wave of joy go through him. _Harry was still alive._ Finally focusing on the still bleeding wound on Harry's head, he adjusted his hold on him, drew his wand, pointed it towards Harry's wound and muttered "Prope vulnere!"

The bleeding stopped but the wound had barely healed, the skin and muscle underneath still eviscerated. It appeared to be in the shape of a rune and was tinged with dark residue.

 _Dark magic?_ Knowing he did not have time in case another attack occurred, Sirius cast a sleep charm on Harry, holstered his wand and turned towards the door, changed his mind in a split second, and headed towards the hole in the wall. _I need to get out of here!_

He cast a glance towards Lily and her broken wand and had nearly jumped out of the room when the words of his grandfather, Arcturus Sirius Black, floated through his head…

 _Blood of the Mother..._

Turning back towards the lifeless form of Lily, Sirius drew his wand, conjured a large vial and, with great effort, levitated some of Lily's blood out of her eviscerated body into the vial. Casting an unbreakable charm on the vial, he placed it into a pocket of his coat.

"I will take care of him, Lily. I swear!" Sirius murmured the words, a brief spark of magic flashing out his body, and holding Harry tight, jumped out of the hole. He fell down to the ground but his experience as an Auror and his specially-woven dragon-hide boots, with an auto-levitation and cushioning charms for such escapades, helped him land safely without any harm to either man or child.

Ensuring Harry was comfortable in his arms, Sirius quickly approached the front gate. As he passed through the gate, he felt a crack in the magic around him. Stopping for a second to take a quick reading with his senses, Sirius walked away from the home.

Hearing footsteps walking in his direction, Sirius immediately drew his hand and pointed it in the direction of the new arrival. Walking towards him, wearing a mokeskin jacket and a sock in one pocket, was Hagrid. The large half-giant was crying. Profusely.

Hagrid noticed Sirius who had holstered his wand, walked towards him. As he neared Sirius, he noticed Harry sleeping in his arms and bawled his eyes out. "'ow did it 'appen, Sirius?"

"Pettigrew!" Sirius growled out the name. "He was the secret keeper. He betrayed us all." he answered, his eyes turning to grey steel and focusing on his Occlumency to prevent emotions from overwhelming him. He could not break down, not now, despite the fact that he wanted to find the rat and tear him limb from bloody limb.

"Petti- that rat! He wa- the-bastard!" Hagrid growled in rage, wiping at his tears with the back of his hand.

Beating down his own anger at the rat, Sirius wondered how Hagrid got here and what his purpose was. "But what are you doing here, Hagrid? Where's Dumbledore?"

Hagrid appeared to snap out of his rage and looked down at Sirius. "Dumbledore ordr'd me ta' take Harry to 'im, Sirius."

 _Dumbledore? What's he playing at?_ Feeling a mote of suspicion and remembering James' words to him, Sirius spoke clearly. "Listen Hagrid!" He continued in a strong stern tone. "I am Harry's godfather. I will take care of him. Go to Dumbledore and tell him to hunt for Pettigrew! I will- I will take Harry to a healer—he was bleeding!"

"But Dumbl-" Hagrid tried, oblivious to Sirius' rising anger.

"HAGRID! HARRY NEEDS A HEALER NOW, AND IF DUMBLEDORE WANTED HIM SO MUCH, HE SHOULD HAVE BLOODY COME HERE HIMSELF!" Sirius admonished. Then lowering his tone, he spoke calmly. "I'm sorry! Just go and tell him. Catch the rat. Pettigrew, he is a rat animagus! GO!"

Hagrid, cowed by his words, pulled the sock out of the pocket of his jacket and muttered "Pop." He disappeared in a flash of blue light. It was surprising how easily the large giant was cowed by his words.

Sirius considered his future plans and held on to Harry. He needed to get him to a healer. But James had told him not to trust Dumbledore... The ministry could not be trusted either. Knowing he only had one option left, Sirius' hold on Harry tightened "Hold on tight, Prongslet!" and apparated from Godric's Hollow.

* * *

Sirius, along with Harry, appeared with a crack in front of the large doors of Gringotts, the Goblin-run bank. Unlike what most of the wizarding population knew of them, the ancient families knew well that the goblins were not just bankers, but a race of gifted warriors, master crafters and, of course, healers. If he had to choose between a goblin and a ministry healer, the choice was obvious.

Entering through the bank through the large bronze doors, Sirius stopped in front of the main gateway. The floor was covered in black granite with the ceiling reaching over twenty feet in height and covered in murals of ancient wars between wizards and goblins. There were two rows of counters, manned by goblins, on either side of the room with the head goblin and his desk located at the far end of the room opposite him. Two doors on either side of the head goblin led to the rest of the bank and rooms built for various…services. A few doors were located behind the counters, leading to magic-knew-where.

A few witches and wizards were milling around, some sitting on the benches placed near the entrance and others talking to the tellers. Spotting the nearest teller who was free, he approached the counter and whispered. "I, of the ancient blood, request a goblin to heal me!" His grandfather had taught him many such odd phrases and solutions to the queer little problems of life. For a ruthless bastard, Arcturus Black had been a rather loving grandfather towards him.

The teller's eyes flashed in recognition, passing a glance at the baby, and nodded. "May we see some identification?"

Sirius held out his hand.

The goblin took a sharp-looking pin from below the counter and pricked his palm, drawing out a tiny little spurt of blood. The goblin whispered an incantation in gobbledegook, turning the blood blue. Nodding at the result, the goblin vanished the blood with a wave of his palm and returned the pin to its place below. Turning to Sirius, he said "Very well. Come with me!"

The goblin led Sirius through the doors at the back, Sirius following him into the hallowed chambers of Gringotts, the same granite flooring and white marbled walls visible throughout the corridor with large bronze doors at uneven intervals. Sirius knew that the number of people who might have had a chance to step into these hallowed portals in the last few generations could be counted in one hand; his own grandfather being one of them.

The goblin led him past several murals and doors before finally stopping at a door marked with goblin runes. Knocking once, the goblin opened the door and entered the room, Sirus, still holding Harry, right on his heels.

The room appeared to be the goblin version of a healing chamber. The entire room was of a pale white color with several beds located on either side of the room at regular intervals. Goblins wearing white robes, small runes decorating them, were milling about the room, organising potions into the various cabinets present or talking amongst each other.

The goblin teller approached a rather elder goblin and quickly spoke to him in the goblin tongue. The healer nodded at his words, glanced towards Sirius and spoke a few words to the teller.

The elder goblin and the teller approached Sirius. "Is the baby is need of healing?" The goblin had a gruff voice. Sirius nodded at his words.

"Hand him over!" The elder goblin took Harry from Sirius and pointed a finger towards Sirius. "You stay here! Rook over here-" he pointed towards the goblin teller, "-will inform your account manager. I believe you need to sort things out." He gave a pointed look and Sirius understood what he meant. The cost of the healing service.

The elder goblin proceeded towards one of the beds, barking commands to the others, placed Harry on it and began casting spells.

After a couple of anxious minutes of watching the goblins work on Harry, the goblin teller returned with his Account Manager Ripclaw.

Goblins had funny names, but Sirius was not idiotic enough to point that out. No, he liked his life and money too much for that.

Ripclaw nodded towards Sirius and dismissed the teller. "Mr. Black, please come with me. We have things to discuss while the child gets treated."

Against his better judgement, Sirius let Ripclaw's suggestion overpower his own paternal instinct to stay there till Harry was back. He followed Ripclaw out of the room, past a couple of doors and stopped at a door marked with the plaque 'Black Account Manager'. Ripclaw pressed his palm flat against the wood, a brief green flash appearing between his fingers, opened the door and walked in with Sirius.

* * *

The room was sparsely furnished, but the furniture was of excellent make and taste. A rich wood desk stood in the centre of the room, with two red leather upholstered chairs facing a single black chair on the other side of the desk. A vanishing tray and several folders were present on the desk alongside a pot of ink and three quills along with a small bell. Two rich wooden benches were placed on either side of the door and a large red wood cabinet occupied the wall behind the desk. The entire room was lit up using rune-based lights placed on the walls.

Ripclaw occupied the black chair and Sirius took the chair opposite, wondering what it entailed.

Leaning forward with his hands on the desk, Ripclaw spoke in a rough voice. "I will be blunt, Mr. Black. There are quite a lot of things we need to take care of, before we move in to the costs of his treatment."

Sirius looked at the old wizened goblin with wariness.

Watching Sirius' response to his words, the goblin flashed his teeth in a facsimile of a smile. "No need to be suspicious Mr. Black. The child will be treated by the best of our healers. The issue, however, is quite different. I suppose Lord Black has informed you about the custom of goblin healing that is meted out to the ancient families?"

Sirius gave a wary nod.

"Did your grandfather also tell you that the patient needs to be of your blood in order to get treatment?"

"Excuse me?" Sirius blurted out in surprise, his mind racing about the meaning of the words.

Ripclaw simply nodded. "Only a Lord can ask for goblin treatment, and only for his immediate family. Since you are unmarried, I am afraid it presents quite a problem as you have broken several of the rules of the Goblin nation. And you know, very well, we do not take kindly to rules bring broken."

Sirius looked warily at the goblin, his hands tightening in fear. "Do you have... any... suggestions as to how I can clear myself of this... transgression?"

Ripclaw nodded. "There is. But first, I have to ask. Who is this baby?"

Knowing the truth would help than hinder, Sirius spoke slowly, his tone wary. "Harry James Potter. Son of James and Lily Potter, and heir of the Noble and Ancient House of Potter. He is my godson."

The goblin's forehead creased and it was clear he was deep in thought. Keeping his eyes closed, he asked "Why is it that his birth father is not here?"

The question nearly derailed the control Sirius had on his emotions. "He's- he died an hour ago. In the altercation with Voldemort-"

"and the boy survived?" Ripclaw intervened abruptly. Sirius nodded.

Ripclaw stared at Sirius in thought before asking "What of the dark lord?"

Sirius flashed back to his memories of the nursery, the face of lily being prominent among them. Remembering the tattered cloak on the floor, he said "I saw his cloak fallen on the floor. Apparently, he died during his attempt to kill Harry." Seeing the goblin's interest in Voldemort's demise at the hand of a child, Sirius continued speaking "How? I do not know."

"Interesting." Thinking back on the conversation and filing several enquiries for later, Ripclaw spoke in a clear tone of voice. "In that case, Mr. Black, I do have a suggestion for you. But before that, I wish to tell you that your grandfather passed away two days ago."

Sirius' eyes filled with tears. While his family had despised him and his traits, his grandfather had always shown pride for his efforts and had taught Sirius everything he knew. Feeling a muted sort of grief, he realised he had no one left in the world now.

Except Harry.

Taking a breath to steel himself, Sirius gestured towards Ripclaw to continue speaking.

"As of right now, you are the Heir Apparent. If your family magick were to accept you and bestow the lordship upon you-" Sirius was hanging at his every word- "you could blood adopt the baby into your family and thus, the dilemma of your transgressions could be completely resolved."

Knowing this was the only way to provide Harry the healing he needed, Sirius did not hesitate on his answer. "Done!"

"Very well then!" Ripclaw opened the upper left drawer of his desk and pulled out a ritual bowl made of black stone etched with runes of various scripts and a ritual knife made of goblin silver with an emerald-studded hilt, also covered in runes and placed them in the center of the desk. Gesturing towards the implements, Ripclaw asked "I assume you know the process—" Sirius nodded in the affirmative "-very well. Proceed."

Sirius took the ritual dagger that was place beside the bowl with his left hand. Placing his right hand, palm down, over the bowl, he sliced with the dagger, letting his blood drip into the bowl, uttering the incantation. "Familius Magicus!"

A jet-black flame erupted out of the blood inside the bowl, nearly devouring Sirius' bloodied palm, kissing the blood that was steadily seeping down his palm, drop by drop. The heat was quite welcoming and Sirius felt the family magic brush against his own.

"I, Sirius Orion, son of Black, claim the Raven as my own. By blood, by magic and by oath, I assert my will as the Lord of Black. As I have said, so mote it be."

The fire suddenly erupted in another vigorous flare and, previously where there were flames, now stood an ethereal, black raven sitting on his bloodied palm. It stared at him for a moment, judging him for all his worth, before letting out a squawk and transforming into a large old-fashioned ring, which settled itself comfortably on his middle finger of his right hand, the family magick humming in his veins.

"Congratulations, Lord Black!" Ripclaw replied.

Sirius nodded, both tired and relieved that was done. He drew his wand over the cut, closing the wound.

Observing his condition for a second, Ripclaw continued. "Now, after young Potter's treatment has been completed, we will perform the adoption ritual. The entire process, including the treatment, is going to cost you fifteen thousand galleons. Though, as your account manager, I believe it will not matter to you."

Sirius nodded, his face now flushed with anxiousness.

* * *

After waiting for an hour, a summons arrived from the healing chamber and the duo followed the messenger to the chamber. The elder goblin stood next to Harry who was bundled up in fresh white blankets, sleeping on the bed. He seemed to be fine, but the wound was not completely healed. While Sirius could no longer feel the tinge of dark magic he'd felt back at Godric's Hollow, there was a lightning shaped scar where the wound previously was.

The goblin healer answered the unasked question. "Sowilo, the rune of victory. Quite a phenomenal rune your child has here, especially when the wound was caused by vile magic." There was an undercurrent of curiosity in his voice.

Feeling somewhat ominous about the answer, Sirius muttered his thanks, approached the bed and lifted Harry into his hands. The rest of the healers stood behind the elder goblin.

The healer paused to take in the scene and began his report. "There are some details you need to know. Firstly, the dark magic he was tainted with was eviscerated." Sirius flushed with relief. "BUT-" The healer's voice was filled with warning "-There is a soul-piece, or as you wizards would likely say it, a horcrux, embedded in his scar. But whose, I cannot say!"

"Voldemort!" Sirius gritted his teeth. _Damn him!_ He cursed Voldemort for not only taking away Harry's parents, but for infecting him with his putrefied soul.

The healers looked warily at each other before one of them spoke up. "The soul simply cannot be splintered with a mere backlash of magic. In order for this to occur means that the original soul was possibly fragmented several times prior to this event. The number I cannot say, but yes, your child holds one of those abominations in his scar."

Sirius's hands trembled, his mind roiling with grief for Harry and rage at the white-faced bastard for causing this. "What does it mean for Harry?"

The elder goblin responded. "We have been able to isolate the abomination from his magical core, and keep it bound a specialised runic matrix. I would suggest you to use your family magic to help keep it bound and protect the boy. Mind arts also help, but you can teach him when he matures further. Please do bring him back annually for a check-up. All other issues have been cleared." Nodding towards Sirius, the elder and the healers returned to their duties.

Sirius had no idea what to do. His godson, James and Lily's only child, would have to survive with a horcrux in his scar. He wanted to rage at the world for this injustice.

Ripclaw turned towards Sirius. "Lord Black, please come with me!"

Nodding to Ripclaw, Sirius walked followed Ripclaw to his office, baby Harry still asleep in his arms.

Entering the office and taking their previous positions, Ripclaw spoke. "I understand that you want to blood adopt him now."

Sirius nodded.

"Very well." The old goblin took out another ritual bowl etched with runes and a ritual dagger and placed them on the desk. Sirius let Ripclaw levitate Harry onto the desk in front of the ritual bowl. Grabbing the knife with his left, Sirius sliced his right palm again and let the blood drip into the bowl, uttering the incantation. "Familius magicus heriditas."

The bowl erupted in black flames, flaring for a brief second and the raven stood there in all its glory. Sirius cast an anaesthetic charm on Harry and then made a tiny incision in his right arm, letting a small amount of blood seep out. He summoned the blood into a conjured vial and then dropped said vial into the bowl. The raven sat and watched the details sharply.

When the flames flared again, Sirius uttered "Familius magicus heriditas!"

The bowl erupted in silver flames, the raven watching the proceedings, and an ethereal silver gryffin roared out of the bowl. It was of the same size as the raven. The two magical totems stared at each other for a moment, and then flew towards each other, merging and forming a pulsing sphere of silver and black light. The sphere flew off and entered into the incised cut on Harry's arm. Harry glowed golden for a second, and then returned to normal. With a single swish of his wand, Sirius healed the incision.

Knowing the ritual was complete, Ripclaw spoke up. "It is done. Now all you have to do is name him."

Sirius sat there, stunned in amazement. How was he supposed to name him?! James and Lily had already named him. But... James had told him take Harry away...

" _Take Harry away—teach him- keep him safe."_

Nodding towards Ripclaw, Sirius stared at Harry, wondering what to name him when he remembered the words of his now deceased friend.

" _Harry will have to return. Return back and fight for his heritage."_

Remembering the words of his departed friend and his vow, Sirius stared at Harry for a second before turning towards Ripclaw. "Ares... His name will be Ares James Black. The last of the Potters and the future Lord of Black, my blood heir."

"So mote it be!" The goblin intoned.

"So mote it be!" Sirius finished.

Knowing the records would have registered the change, Sirius asked "Did James Potter leave any will?"

Ripclaw nodded in the affirmative. "Yes, but we need to talk to the Potter account manager for that!" He rang a small bell placed on the desk and whispered, seemingly into the air. "Call for Grimjaw!"

After a minute, a whiskered old goblin - whom Sirius assumed was Grimjaw – entered the office.

Turning towards Grimjaw, Ripclaw said "Lord Black had blood adopted the heir of the Potter family, and as such, he wants information about the existing wills."

Grimjaw stared at Sirius for a moment and then replied. "The wills will require thirty-six hours to be opened. Since the present Lord passed away not more than three hours ago, I cannot convey the details to you."

Sirius nodded at the response. "Very well. Can you at least comply with some of my orders regarding the wills and the Potter accounts? I am now the official guardian of the Potter heir, after all."

Grimjaw cocked his head before responding slowly. "I suppose."

Knowing that was all the response he would get, Sirius conveyed his instructions. "I want the vaults belonging to the Potter family to be put on immediate lockdown. Only upon the request of either Harry or me, should the vaults be opened again. However, that does not include the investments and business ventures. Keep the gold flowing in and take your personal profit as was decided between you and the late-" Sirius choked at the word. "-Lord Potter. Also, the wills shall remain sealed until further orders from me."

Grimjaw gave Sirius a sharp stare. Then, he nodded jerkily. "Very well."

Turning to Ripclaw, Sirius said "I want you to shut down all existing Black properties until further orders. I shall be residing at the ancestral manor of the Blacks in Bulgaria. Please coordinate with your branch there so that I can access my fortunes from your Bulgarian branch. All letters and correspondences shall find me there. If anyone asks, Harry, or I, were never here. Kindly take three pieces of precious armour from the Black armoury as a gift." Ripclaw's smile widened at his words. "When the time is ripe, Harry and I shall return, but that is a long time away." Running through his instructions in his head and satisfied that his affairs were in order, Sirius asked "Could you provide me a portkey to the manor?"

Ripclaw nodded to his request. He opened the bottom right drawer and pulled out an old ring. Upon whispering an incantation, the ring glowed blue. Ripclaw stared at the ring for a second and handed it over it to Sirius.

"Thank you. May your enemies fall before you, and may your gold forever flow!" said Sirius. The ring glowed and Sirius and Harry popped away.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: (Dated 20-12-2017) And now I suppose it is time that we introduce the actors/actresses who will… without Imperius exposure… shall be playing roles in this story. Special thanks to my fellow co-author (who actually wrote all of the actor/actress stuff up) for his contributions. And now, here are the names.**

 **ASTORIA GREENGRASS – OLIVIA HOLT**

 **BLAISE ZABINI – RYAN HASON BRADFORD**

 **DAPHNE GREENGRASS – VIRGINIA ELIZABETH GARDNER**

 **THEODORE NOTT –I wanted GAGE MUNROE for the role, but under compulsion spells from my extremely petulant co-author, we have jointly decided to award this role to a YOUNGER JAMES FRANCO.**

 **Skadarken: Hey, I argued for the right actor. James Franco from Sam Raimi's "Spiderman". Not my fault if you're blind to his virtues. Ignore him, people. He was color blind that day.**

 **TRACEY DAVIS – QUINN SHEPARD**

 **SIRIUS BLACK – CHRIS PINE (While Gary Oldman did a marvelous job in the films, he is well… too old for a man in his early thirties. And we are NOT doing a time-travelling younger version of Gary here)**

 **JONATHAN GREENGRASS – COLIN FIRTH**

 **VICTORIA GREENGRASS – YVONNE STRAHOVSKI**

 **LILY POTTER – JESSICA CHASTAIN**

 **JAMES POTTER – SEBASTIAN STAN (Please the original actors were WAY TOO old for portraying a nineteen-year-old couple)**

 **Skadarken: We both agreed on that point. Seriously, who puts 40-year olds to play characters who barely made it to 21.**

 **While we would have liked to change the lead actor, but we didn't want to risk the readers to get a heart attack by changing Daniel for the lead role. Hence, he stays.**

 **Skadarken: *In a stage whisper* HE had an aneurysm when I suggested it.**

 **As Always. Read. Enjoy.**


	3. Sorting

The gold and scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express gave another long high-pitched whistle as it approached the ten-minute arrival point to Hogsmeade station, ensuring the students had time to change into their uniforms or ensure their luggage was prepared for the house elves to transport them to the dorms.

Daphne and Tracey had shrunk their trunks to carry them in their pockets while Theo stowed his books into his trunk and locked it down, leaving it on the rack for the house elves to transport it. Blaise woke up from his nap due to the whistle, looked around the compartment and at his friends preparing for departure and followed their lead.

After ten minutes, the train came to a standstill at the platform of Hogsmeade station, steam billowing out of the engine. The sky was clear that night, providing a rather breathtaking view of the stars in their grandeur. The Hogsmeade station was a rectangular structure, constructed with stone, with an arching entrance in the middle of it that led to the carriages that would carry the second years and above to the Hogwarts school grounds across a tree-lined path. The entire platform was lit up with eternal light charms. A path led from the platform to the boats that would ferry the first year students across the lake to Hogwarts. Three platform attendants, dressed in blue uniform robes, stood on the platform, waiting to lead the students to the carriages. Hagrid, holding an old-fashioned gas lantern, stood at the end of the platform, ready to lead the first years to the boats and Hogwarts.

The students, now dressed in their Hogwarts uniform, quickly departed the train. The senior years, alongside their friends, wanting to escape the biting England cold, quickly scrambled to the thestral-drawn carriages waiting to take them to the school grounds and a warm feast. Several of the senior years began casting warming charms onto themselves and their friends while most of the younger years huddled into their robes. The platform attendants, alongside the prefects, were directing the students to the carriages while ensuring that none of them were hurt in the rush.

Hagrid began shouting to be heard over the noise of the platform for the first years to gather around him, waving the lantern to signal them. "FIRST YEARS TO ME! FIRST YEARS GATHER AROUND!"

As the first years slowly began to congregate around Hagrid, Daphne stood on the platform looking around to spot her boyfriend. Tracey had cast a warming charm on Daphne and herself while Theo and Blaise did the same for themselves.

Daphne stood on her toes trying to spot the familiar mop of raven-black hair while Tracey stood at her side, an amused smile on her face. Theo grumbled about the cold and Blaise stood to his side with a smirk at Daphne's actions.

"Come on, Daphne! He'll meet us at Hogwarts anyway."

Daphne did not even acknowledge the words of her best friend and continued to search for her boyfriend.

"We'll meet him at HOGWARTS! He can't go anywhere else! It's a huge crowd." Tracey continued to pester Daphne, wanting to escape the cold. Most of the students had already boarded the carriages and Hagrid and the first years were no longer visible on the platform. A few stragglers remained on the platform, waiting for their friends to depart the carriages.

Daphne turned to glare at Tracey. Theo' and Blaise's comments about her being lovesick did not leave their throats at her spine-chilling glare.

Ignoring her glare as she usually did, Tracey spoke slowly. "Nearly everyone's gone. He might be coming straight to Hogwarts. Besides, I'm sure he would have met us if he was on the train." Seeing Daphne continue to be stubborn, Tracey played her final card. "The faster we get to Hogwarts, the faster you can see him."

Seeing Tracey' point and muttering about idiotic boyfriends, Daphne led the way towards the remaining carriages. Tracey walked beside her with an overly excited grin while Theo heaved a sigh at finally moving on their way. Blaise' lips twitched at her actions while his mind continued to wonder at the implications of Harry Potter, or rather, Ares Black's arrival at Hogwarts.

* * *

Emerald-green eyes sprang open as Ares woke up from his nap aboard the Hogwarts express. Realising the train had come to a complete halt, he stood up from the seat and stretched his muscles with a yawn. Eight hours of journey by train! He grimaced. Why the students could not just apparate or Floo in from home, he could never understand. It was so damned easier and less hectic. Although his father had told him that, the experience of riding the train was quite fascinating. Not that he knew. After all, he had slept away the better part of his time aboard it.

Bringing his trunk down from the rack, Ares shrunk it and put it inside his jacket. His father had specifically ordered it to be sewn for him. The Dragon-hide jacket, made from the rather thick skin of a Ukrainian Ironbelly, could easily absorb simple hexes and quite a few curses. It would not help him against powerful bludgeoners, but as far as cutting and slicing was concerned- it was the very thing he needed. Although if someone did attack him, it would be an entirely different matter. He wondered for a second why it was that he had come to this place, remembering the conversation with his father the previous night.

 _ **"Run it by me again. Why I need to go to Hogwarts? I can study by myself and take the OWL's from the Ministry directly, can't I?" Ares asked petulantly, pouting at his father.**_

 _ **"Harry…" Heaving a sigh, Sirius sat in front of him.**_

 _ **Father and son were seated on the loveseat in the living room. The living room was flanked by a large floor-to-ceiling window occupying an entire wall, overlooking the garden in front of the manor. The walls were painted in an azure blue with black accents and the ceiling was a peach white with an elaborate crystal chandelier lit with color-changing charms. A large coffee table occupied the centre of the room with a large sofa facing the window and two loveseats on either side of the table. The fireplace roared in the corner to keep out the chilly Bulgarian weather.**_

 _ **Sirius leaned back onto the arm of the loveseat and clasped his hands in his lap. "Ten years ago, you could do that. But with the recent laws of the Ministry, it is paramount that you should take them at Hogwarts. I think Dumbledore framed this law in order to get you back to Britain; especially since no other Ancient House lives abroad."**_

 _ **"Well, he has succeeded then!" Ares complained, a frown marring his face.**_

 _ **"Yes he has." Sirius smirked. Ares knew that smirk. It would always appear when his father was about to play an elaborate prank on some unsuspecting victim. "But, now that you are forced to return, we shall do what we have always have done."**_

 _ **"Tumble the chess board and own the game?" Ares asked cheekily, his own version of the smirk rising on his face.**_

 _ **"Exactly." Sirius smiled internally at his son's quick wit. "By the time we will be done with them, they will be wishing that they had left the Marauders alone!" Sirius ruffled his son's hair. "Also, your dad and I have so many memories of Hogwarts. It would be unfair to his memory if his son would not enjoy at least some years at Hogwarts." His expression turned serious. "And then there is your heritage to consider."**_

 _ **Ares leaned forward, a frown on his face. "Dad's puzzle?" A few years ago, Sirius had explained everything surrounding the death of his parents, including the clue left by his birth father. While he and Sirius had put together all their skills and resources, they could not make heads or tails of the clue given to him.**_

 _ **Sirius nodded. "Do you have your things ready?"**_

 _ **Leaning back, his elbow on the arm of the seat, Ares nodded. "Trunk packed, check. Satchel and mokeskin pouch taken, check. Mirror and emergency portkey, check. My wand and holster check. Dad's wand and holster; check. Yes, everything ready."**_

 _ **Sirius smiled at Ares. "Good boy. Now let's go off for an early sleep, you have a big day tomorrow."**_

Checking himself to ensure that all his belongings were in their respective pockets, Ares drew his wand and removed the wards he had placed around his compartment. Hearing the distinct lack of sound from his carriage, he walked out of the compartment and past several others to realise he was the ONLY person aboard the carriage.

Jumping out of the compartment, Ares stood on the platform and took stock of his surroundings. The platform was completely deserted, save for an attendant who had just walked into the station office and the sound of doors opening and closing from the other carriages. Realising he had slept through the departure of the entirety of Hogwarts' student population, he let out a sigh.

Taking one last look around the station for good measure, Ares walked off the platform and through the entrance of the station. He stood outside the station and realised that all the carriages had left. Shaking his head in frustration at a rather unlucky start to his upcoming school year, he stretched his legs before walking up the path towards the school grounds of Hogwarts, the place that would be his playground for the next three years.

Ares continued to walk up the path, his mind on all the stories that his father had shared about his alma mater; Most important among them – to Ares anyway – were the stories of the Marauders. He fondly remembered all the stories about the Marauders that father had shared with him. Like the time they changed the skin color of all the girls in the Gryffindor dormitory or the time they managed to vanish the clothes of the Slytherin seventh years during Charms class. But his most favorite story to date was when his mother had pranked the Marauder, causing to sing like a canary for an entire week. His reminiscences were brought to a halt by an unfamiliar sound around him.

Immediately shifting into a battle-ready stance and drawing his wand, Ares' eyes darted around him – the moon and stars provided adequate light - until he spotted an unfamiliar looking animal in the forest surrounding the path. Taking sharp note of the features of the animal, Ares stepped forward until he recognised, with a small gasp of surprise, the animal for what it was.

 _A Thestral! Pad wasn't playing a joke on me. Hogwarts actually has them._

The reptilian winged-horse –like creature turned towards Ares at his gasp, red eyes staring straight at him. The red eyes continued to stare at him through the trees until Ares holstered his wand, relaxed his posture and approached the animal. The thestral continued to stare at him until he was a few feet away from it. Just he was about to take another step forward, the thestral slowly approached him.

Ares stopped in his tracks and let the thestral come towards him. When the thestral finally neared him, Ares extended a hand towards the creature. The thestral looked at his hand for a moment before nosing his palm. Ares smiled at the gesture and let his hand wander across the neck of the creature that seemed delighted at meeting a human. He remembered them from his studies; Thestrals could only be seen by those that had seen and accepted death for what it is. They were also pack animals with a rather strong protective nature, but they were generally mellow creatures.

Ares smiled at the fact that, despite the rather reptilian appearance, the skin was rather smooth to the touch. Remembering a fact about thestrals with crystal clarity, he smirked at his idea. Facing the creature, he asked "Will you give me a ride to the school?"

The thestral nodded with recognition.

"Great!" Holding onto the back of thestral, Ares quickly got on the back of the creature, his hands on the neck and his legs dangling just ahead of the wings. Once he assured himself he had a tight grip, Ares spoke to the thestral. "Time to move, Mate. Let's go!"

Giving a neigh, the thestral took a running start with leathery wings stretched to their entire wingspan, forcing Ares to tighten his grip. Flapping its wings, the thestral took off, ascending towards the starry sky before angling itself towards Hogwarts. Giving another neigh, - Ares would swear that it was a warning – the thestral accelerated to full speed faster than any broom Ares had ever ridden. He swore that it was slightly faster than his Firebolt and held in his scream of delight, in case the thestral decided he was too noisy and threw him over. Spotting the distant lights that he realised was Hogwarts, Ares relaxed and enjoyed the rest of his ride to Hogwarts on a thestral.

 _Nope! Not a bad experience at all…_

* * *

Within a minute of flying, Ares could spot various carriages that were nearing Hogwarts castle. After two minutes, he had neared the school grounds and the view took his breath away. His father's description had understated the beauty of Hogwarts. _The pictures really don't do justice…_ The castle stood on a massive piece of rock flanked by the Black lake to the right of the castle. The castle itself looked decidedly medieval and built more like a fortress for war, rather than a school. The entire castle was lit up with hundreds of eternal light charms and the towers looked to defy the laws of gravity. A sudden thought had Ares wondering if the castle was actually built by the Founders or someone older…

Turning to his left, Ares could spot the first years entering the Black lake and slowly approaching Hogwarts. Looking down as the thestral made a loop over the castle and grounds, he could spot students of various houses disembarking the thestral-drawn carriages and walking towards the entrance.

Directing the thestral to land away from the students, Ares passed one glance at the castle from his perch. Once the thestral had properly descended onto the school grounds, Ares jumped off its back before moving forward and petting its sides. Ares looked the thestral in the eye and said "Thanks for the lift, friend."

The thestral nudged him with its face before taking off towards the Forbidden forest. Ares smiled at the departing creature before turning around and walking towards the entrance of the castle. Spotting a familiar blonde head entering the gates, Ares smirked and quickened his steps, just behind a group of sixth year Hufflepuffs that had disembarked from their carriage.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts and Transfiguration professor, had just placed the sorting hat and chair in front of the lectern at the head table and left the great hall, the doors closing behind her, as the last of the senior years were seated at their House tables, intending to enter the antechamber and begin leading the first years to their sorting. As she turned towards the antechamber, she spotted James Potter walking towards her. Figuring that he must be out for some mischief as usual and that she would have to admonish-

 _James Potter?_

McGonagall felt her heart jump a beat before she quickly focused all her attention on the student approaching her. The student, who looked startlingly similar to the deceased James Potter, was nearing her, a rather warm smile on his face. As he drew near, her attention was drawn to the bright emerald eyes possessed by the student; a rather distinctive color that she had only ever seen on one person. A frown on her face, she quickly sifted through the memories, some of them clouded by time, until the answer hit her with all the force of a bludger. _Lily Evans! Her student. Her friend…_

Shocked at her conclusions, McGonagall stared at the boy in disbelief. Her mind was taking its own sweet time to reach the end of the deductive process due to the rather huge shock encountered by her. As the fifteen-year old neared her, her mind supplied the answer to her.

"Harry? Harry Potter?" McGonagall stammered out in disbelief.

Ares came to a halt in front of Minerva and smiled at her, remembering the fond stories his father had told him about the strict Head of Gryffindor house. "The very same, Madam, but I go by my official name. Ares James Black."

Mcgonagall frowned at the boy's answer, his mind sifting through her memories until the answer found gave her another jolt of surprise. _Black? Sirius!?_ "You have been living with Sirius Black all these years?"

Ares gave her a warm smile at her question, confirming her suspicions.

McGonagall frowned for a moment before smoothing her face of all expression and then replied. "There have been a lot of rumors circulating about you, Mr. err... Black, but I am sure you will know all about them eventually. For now, please come in. The Headmaster had informed me that a transfer-student was indeed coming in for fifth-year, but he did not tell me it was you."

Ares kept his smile. He assumed that his face looked better smiling, rather than snarling in anger at the mention of the old coot.

Minerva gestured towards the antechamber. "Come on in, Mr. Pot -Black. You have been away from Britain for a long, long time, my boy. But first, let's get you sorted."

"Sure thing. Professor-" Ares smiled at her, turning the statement into a question at the end.

McGonagall expression cracked for a second at that smile. It looked far too much like Lily. Internally shaking off the grief, she smiled at the son of her deceased friends. "McGonagall. Minerva McGonagall. Now hurry up!"

Minerva walked towards the antechamber door with Ares on her heels. Opening the door, she entered the antechamber and Ares walked in beside her. The first years were huddled together and looked up at their entrance with curiosity, worry and boredom on their faces.

Professor McGonagall halted inside the room and turned towards Ares and spoke in a stern voice. "Wait here with the other first years, and enter when we call for all of you." With a parting affectionate look, she turned away and strode towards the Great Hall, the huge wooden doors opening at her approach and closing behind her. The antechamber door closed as the doors of the great hall did the same.

The first years were giving Ares curious looks, some of them wondering why a senior student was standing with them to be sorted and some wondering why a transfer student to come to Hogwarts.

Ares ignored the stares pointed at him and stared around the antechamber while his thoughts went back to the view of the castle and the corridors he passed. _Hogwarts is huge! Black Manor has nothing over this. I will give you that!_ He smirked at the shenanigans he was planning on, his smirk sending several first year students away to the far side of the room in worry.

Ares' thoughts were interrupted when the door to the antechamber opened and McGonagall entered the chamber.

McGonagall passed he room a glance before looking at the first years and Ares. Adopting a strict demeanour, she spoke with steel in her voice. "You are expected inside. Please follow me."

* * *

The great hall was absolutely splendid. It was a large rectangular room with a ceiling enchanted to appear as the night sky. The far end of the room, opposite to the entrance, was slightly raised and held a long wooden table with a golden chair in the middle and several chairs beside it facing the entrance. A lectern, designed in the form of a golden owl in flight, stood in front of the table. A door was located on either side of the raised platform. A large window occupied the wall behind the table with the glass covered in moving mosaic pictures. The rest of the floor was occupied by four long wooden tables that were spread equidistant from each other with long wooden chairs on either side of the table. Four long banners hung on the walls beside the entrance to the great hall, designed to represent the tale of the House they faced. Four long windows occupied the space above the banners. Four glass tubes that looked to be filled with precious gems at the bottom were present behind and to the left of the Head table. Hundreds of lit candles floated across the length of the great hall while the entire hall was lit up with a complex light charm that ensured all parts of the hall were equally bright.

The long table at the far end was occupied by the teachers and staff, with the Headmaster occupying the golden throne-like chair. The House tables were filled with students of their respective houses. Most of the students were busy talking to their friends, discussing the upcoming school year or looking at Professor McGonagall lead the first years and Ares in the middle of the hall, between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables. The students of all houses were staring in open interest at the fifteen-year old who had appeared with the first years, with no house colors on his uniform. Whispers began around the great hall, wondering who the newcomer was and where he came from.

At the Slytherin table, Daphne glared daggers at Ares who had looked at her for a second, sending a smile her way before turning to stare at the rest of the hall. Beside her, Tracey seemed to be trying, and failing, to hold in laughter at her friend's reaction. But she did pass an appreciative glance towards her best friend's boyfriend, who did not look like the description of the books she would never admit to reading. Blaise and Theo had shared a look while focusing their attention on Ares James Black, their thoughts on the upcoming reactions to his name being called. Draco, on the other hand, glared at Ares in murderous contempt for the insult dealt to him and hoping to find an opportunity to return the favour a hundredfold.

Ares followed just behind the first years who, in turn, followed McGonagall between the tables towards the chair, with a rather rough looking hat, situated in front of the Head table. Upon entering the hall, he had quickly passed a searching glance towards the Slytherin table on the far left of the hall. Spotting his girlfriend who was staring daggers at him, he smiled at her for a brief second, knowing he had to face her soon anyway. Tearing his eyes away from her, he looked around the hall, marvelling at some of the complex enchantments present. He stared at the Head table, taking stock of the staff seated in their chairs. Passing a wary glance towards Dumbledore - The old man was twinkling his eyes in his direction – he spotted some of the familiar faces that he had seen in father's memories., Flitwick, Sprout, Snape – or as his father called him, Snivellus – Sinistra and Burbage.

As they neared the Head table, McGonagall stopped, bringing the entire first year contingent and Ares to a halt. Turning back and asking them to wait there, she walked up to the platform and stood beside the worn hat sitting on a wooden chair.

Ares stared at the hat in curiosity. His father had told him nothing about the sorting, telling Ares that it was a rite of passage to enter Hogwarts. And he certainly didn't believe some of the outlandish stories that the first years were whispering about it. Looking at the hat, he noticed that it was patched, frayed, and extremely dirty. For a few seconds, Ares wondered if the hat was meant to do _anything_. To his surprise, the hat twitched. A resemblance of a face formed on the worn leather of the hat. It opened its wide mouth and…began to sing.

" _In times of old when I was new_

 _And Hogwarts barely started_

 _The founders of our noble school_

 _Thought never to be parted:_

 _United by a common goal,_

 _They had the self-same yearning,_

 _To make the world's best magic school_

 _And pass along their learning._

' _Together we will build and teach!'_

 _The four good friends-"_

The sorting hat had nearly finished with its song and Ares, who had taken to observing the various students and teachers in the hall, turned his attention back to it, as it continued.

" _And we must unite inside her_

 _Or we'll crumble from within._

 _I have told you, I have warned you..._

 _Let the Sorting now begin."_

The whole hall burst into applause, most of it merely polite, as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

As soon as the hat went still, Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment she had taken from her seat at the Head table. Opening the parchment, she announced "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," Seeing their relaxed faces, she looked at the parchment in her hands and called out the first name. "Brown, Devin!"

A thin pudgy looking boy walked up the stage, timid and fearful and sat on the stool. McGonagall placed the hat on his head and five seconds later, the hat cried out rather loudly. "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The boy seemed to give a long sigh, before he let the professor take the hat off and ran down to join the Hufflepuff table, where the existing members seemed to be quite glad to take him in. Ares wondered for a moment, where he would land, or if the hat would simply tell him that he belonged to all houses or refuse to sort him. A snort escaped him at the last thought as he imagined the reactions of the people surrounding him.

A tedious forty minutes and twenty-six sortings later, Ares stood in his place, waiting for his name to be announced for the sorting with the students of all houses staring at him in curiosity. Minerva rolled up her parchment and sent a pointed glance towards the Headmaster. Dumbledore stood up to make an announcement. Dressed in an azure robe that had all sorts of strange drawings over the robes, the old man seemed a bit... _strange_. Ares, however, knew that it was a clever misdirection to hide his true intelligence.

Once the students stopped speaking to stare at the Headmaster who had risen from his seat, Dumbledore began speaking. "Before the feast begins, we have one last student to sort. He has decided to join our prestigious institution after spending his formative years being home-schooled and privately tutored. He has completed his previous education abroad and has expressed his desire to-" Ares rolled his eyes. Wished? More like _compelled_. "-enroll himself into Hogwarts for his OWL year and above. I am of course, talking about Harry Potter."

Whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall, with the stares towards Ares changing from curiosity to awe, interest, calculative and a few were downright hostile. Several students across all four houses appeared to squirm in their seats at the announcement of the name. Draco stared at Ares in shock.

"Did he say _Potter_?"

" _The_ Harry Potter?"

"The Boy-who-lived? But wasn't he-?"

Ares could not help but roll his eyes at hearing the ridiculous name penned by the British wizarding media from several students.

"Mr. Potter, please sit on the stool to be sorted." Dumbledore gestured towards the stool, next to Minerva who held the Sorting Hat in her right hand.

Ares stood his ground, his face expressionless. He knew this might happen. Dumbledore would announce that his name was Harry Potter to undermine Sirius' parenting.

Dumbledore stared at him, waiting for Ares to take his seat.

Ares stared back.

Silence filled the hall as Ares and Dumbledore stared at each other.

Uh-hmm!" Mcgonagall broke the abrupt silence with a polite cough. "Mr. Ares James Black, please come up here." She pointed at the stool. The student population were stunned to hear _Harry Potter_ being referred to by another name entirely, with Draco staring at him, eyes wide with shock and horror. He made a mental note to immediately contact his father with the new information.

Ares gave his trademark grin and strode towards the stool. He could see the slight frown on Dumbledore's face and the scowl on Snape's countenance. _Not yet sorted and already antagonised two of the staff! Well done Ares!_

Ares walked up to the stool and sat down, facing the Great hall. McGonagall put the Sorting Hat on his head and Ares wondered if he would have to put down his Occlumency shields.

"Never mind." The Sorting hat spoke directly into his mind, the voice sounding quite snarky and mischievous. "I can see what either way is in there. You are a bit older than what I am accustomed. Now let us see what you got."

Ares sat quietly, wondering how long it was going to take for the Hat to pronounce judgement for him. His bloodline did not necessarily mean that he would be placed in his ancestor's house, but it was more of a distinct possibility.

"You… I am not even sure if I should sort you in the first place." The Hat replied solemnly.

Ares frowned. "Why so?"

"Destiny and Fate stalks you like no one I have ever seen. While the founders enchanted me to never consider the future implications of what I see in the minds of the students I sort… you are of Salazar's blood, the last of his line, and, I can't help but notice…"

"Is this… about my… problem?" Ares frowned mentally.

"You tell me, young heir…" The Hat replied in a condescending tone. "is this… about your problem?"

Ares stayed quiet, vanishing every single thought out of his mind.

"The enchantments on my person are immune to Occlumency, young heir. However, your choice has told me what I needed to know. Now," –the Hat's tone shifted to _almost benign._ "Let's get you sorted. Hmmm…. You have courage in spades, but with more than enough ruthlessness to back it up. Intelligent and hardworking, but only if it serves your personal aims. Oh and ambition! Quite a lot of it…"

"It is not a choice." Ares told the hat, automatically speaking in his mind without conscious thought. "My problem demands that-"

"Oh, now you are just fooling yourself. You might have started down the path because of it, but your motivation has changed."

Ares did not answer.

"Yes, I know the right house for you. But wait… what is this?" The hat stayed silent for a while before chuckling loudly, the voice echoing across the hall, drawing several stares and whispers.

Ares wondered what the Hat had landed on this time. Almost in answer to his mental query, the Hat spoke up. "Interesting. Very Interesting. I _almost_ missed that bit."

"Am I going to get sorted anytime soon?" Ares thought with a frown.

"Oh, I didn't say that, did I? Well, you are going right into your ancestor's abode. A ' _Slytherin'_ Slytherin after almost a thousand years."

Ares stiffened at the words. "Will the headmaster know about what you saw in my mind? I would like to keep my secrets to myself."

"Worry not, young lord. Your secrets are safe. Your ancestor-" The hat chuckled again, shocking everyone in the hall, "-made sure that all the secrets that I find in the minds of the students would remain secret. Now that you are here, perhaps you should take some time to investigate and visit his old Chambers. I am sure you know what I am talking about."

Ares gave a mental nod. "I am not Lord yet…"

"Semantics. Now shall we get to the sorting?"

Ares stayed quiet.

"Thank you. Now let us get you sorted. There is only one place here for you. You will bring glory to the name of your ancestor and to the house of Salazar SLYTHERIN!" The hat shouted the last word out with an exuberance that raised many eyebrows on the staff table and to the surprise of the student population, save perhaps a few, and deathly silence permeated the hall.

The sound of cracking glass reverberated through the silence. Nobody could tell what had happened, but Professor Snape's countenance looked rather pained.

* * *

"THAT... is Harry Potter?" Tracy almost drawled in delight. Daphne muttered something inaudible, but her countenance held a small frown. The tall, handsome young man walked towards the Slytherin table, ignoring all the stares around him and sat next to her.

"Hi Daph!" Ares began, giving off his trademarked grin.

"Can you just do _one thing_ without attracting mass-attention?" Daphne returned with a scowl.

"Aww! You know me! It just happens!" Ares shrugged and looked at her with puppy-eyes and pouting lips.

"Black, just- don't!" Daphne heard a muttered "Cute!" from her best friend.

Ares continued to stare.

"I - I am—warning you!"

The stare continued.

"Black—stop that!" Daphne was struggling to hold her anger in the face of boyfriend's stare. The rest of the student population had begun whispering about Ares while the staff fell into deep discussion. Dumbledore had a severe frown on his face while Snape started at his House in muted horror. Draco appeared ready to kill Ares.

In the midst of all the attention, Ares continued to stare at his girlfriend with puppy-dog eyes.

"I—am! Oh, Darn! Fine!" Daphne threw up her hands in annoyance. "You are forgiven! Now stop that!"

Ares smirked at her answer, waggling his eyebrows.

Daphne muttered something about incorrigible people and stupid eyes. Tracy was busy pulling her sleeve continuously from behind, and Daphne finally lost her control, and hastily turned towards her. "WHAT?"

Tracey grinned. "Aren't you going to introduce him?"

Daphne's cheeks slightly reddened, but she controlled her blush. This was Hogwarts and the Ice-Queen had a reputation to maintain. Putting on her haughty look, she turned towards Ares. "Ares, meet Tracy Davis, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. Oh and there is Astoria, but you already know her?" Tracy gave a wave, Blaise and Theo just nodded while Astoria waved happily towards him from the seat down the table. Pointing her hand towards him, Daphne spoke to her friends. "Everyone, this is Ares James Black."

Ares nodded towards the rest of the group. "Call me Ares."

"So Potter," Tracy began, and at his raised eyebrows, she continued, "I mean, _Ares,_ what was that about you not going up for sorting?"

Ares smirked, passing a glance towards the Headmaster who continued to frown in his direction while Minerva hid a smile behind her cup at Dumbledore's reaction. "Oh that? Just the grand old man trying to undermine my father's paternal authority by calling me by my birth-name."

"But it _is your_ name." Blaise spoke out, much to Tracy's consternation. "I mean, everyone in Britain knows you as Harry James Potter. Son of James and Lily Potter."

"Yes, and I love my mum and dad a lot." Ares' voice turned solemn at his next words. "However, at the same time, my father, Lord Sirius Black, adopted me as his son by blood and nurtured me after my parents' unfortunate death. I know my parents were wonderful people. Father has told me everything about them; but he raised me to the man I am today. My official name is Ares James Black. My father named me as his heir and I am proud to hold that name."

The entire Slytherin table was silent. On closer look, the Great Hall was silent, as everyone seemed to be intent on hearing what the Boy-who-lived was saying. Ares looked up towards Mcgonagall and found her looking at him. He smiled and she gave a soft smile in return.

"Hello Potter!" Ares looked behind upon hearing the voice to see a senior standing near him. "My name is Marcus Cuthbert. I am the seventh-year prefect. It is an honor to finally meet you." The senior was nearly the same height as him and had a square-cut face.

Ares shook the boy's hand. "I haven't done anything worthy of being honored yet, but thank you for the gesture." His words were not amiss by the rest of the House.

Albus Dumbledore stood up. "Now that we are all watered and fed, I have a few notices to give-"

Ares lost interest in whatever the old man had to say. Daphne's arm was much more interesting. His right hand went underneath the table and held Daphne's left suddenly. Daphne glanced at him and resisted the insane urge to blush. He waggled his eyebrows at her, sending her a not so-subtle mental message. _"Looking very hot, ha!"_

Daphne blushed. Then immediately realizing what her _boyfriend_ had caused, she sharply looked down. The stone floor suddenly became much more interesting. Ares smirked but did not say anything. He looked beyond Daphne and saw Tracy grinning at her friend. He winked at her, causing her to stop suddenly as she felt her cheeks get a tinge of pink in them.

He turned back to the old man.

"So now that we are done, the prefects will show you the correct passages to your common rooms. Seniors, please descend the hall first."

* * *

"Headmaster! I swear this is a mistake! Potter cannot be sorted into Slytherin! He should have been in Gryffindor, just like his arrogant father!" Snape was close to frothing from his mouth, his lips set into a sneer.

While most of the teachers had left to attend to their houses or quarters, Dumbledore, Minerva and Snape stood near the Head table.

Minerva glared at the Potions master. She turned her gaze towards the venerable Headmaster of Hogwarts. "Albus, While I may not agree with his words, I do agree with him _in spirit_. How could a Potter be sorted into Slytherin? I met him on the grounds, and he reminded me so much of Lily."

"Harry Potter has lived with Sirius Black all his life." Dumbledore began. "Though Black was a Gryffindor, he comes from a long line of Slytherins. The Black family is a predominantly dark family after all. Seems like he has somehow... made the young Potter embrace Slytherin values over his Gryffindor nature. Apart from that? I believe we have to wait and watch."

Minerva nodded and left the Great Hall.

Snape grumbled about something impertinent, but then Dumbledore addressed him. "Severus, I know that you are still held up in your grudge against James Potter. But," he paused, drawing himself to full height, "There is a _reason_ that I had to compel him to return back to his homeland. Make sure that no harm comes to my plans. Grudge or not, remember this. _You are here on my accord_."

Severus silently stared at the old Headmaster. He had never seen him so stern and… it was inexplicable. "I will try to keep my grudge in control." He replied finally.

"See that you do." Dumbledore answered, steel ringing in his voice.

With that, Severus Snape rushed back to the dungeons. He had the new arrivals to be acquainted with, and a nasty arrogant brat to tolerate.

* * *

The Slytherin common room was located in the dungeons. Harry walked in with the rest of Daphne's gang, muttering sweet little things in Daphne's ear, much to Daphne's annoyance and her friend's mirth. So far, they had found Harry Pot-... No, Ares Black a very charming and suave person. They entered through the potions corridor, took a sharp bend and stood in front of a blank wall.

"Pureblood." whispered Theodore, as the wall separated out into two-halves. He gave Ares a smirk when he saw him rolling his eyes at such an obvious password.

The common room that appeared in view was great, except for one thing. It was completely green and silver. The entire room, the various armchairs, sofas, desks and furnishings were in either green, silver or a combination of the two. While green and silver were one of Ares' favorite color combinations, matching the entire room and the furniture in the same colors seemed like overkill. Wondering if he should figure out a way to change colors or not, he walked into the room alongside the rest of Slytherin house who quickly assembled in the common room.

Marcus Cuthbert, along with three other students—two girls and one boy respectively, stood waiting for them and ready to deliver their welcoming speech to the first years and older students. Looking at Ares, Marcus said. "I have already explained the rules to the firsties. However, you seem quite familiar with Miss Greengrass here. So, I will let her explain the norms to you-"—he smirked— "personally."

Ares shrugged.

"Your room is on the right with the rest of the fifth years." Marcus pointed to one of the doors on the right wall, just beside an enchanted view of the water beneath the Black lake. "I believe you shall require no aid finding it?"

Ares nodded and muttered his gratitude and strode off with Daphne and the rest of the fifth years. The right corridor led to a series of doors. The third one had a "5" written over it. Daphne opened it and Ares saw that it opened into another corridor.

"So much _serpentine_ design is ironic! Even for Slytherin's standards!" Ares whispered out.

The corridor had twelve rooms, presumably for the fifth years. The fourth room however had no tag on it. Daphne opened the door and looked at him. "This is your room. The next one is Blaise's, then Theo... Tracey and me have rooms on the opposite side." She pointed the rooms with her finger.

Nodding at her words, Ares entered the room that Daphne pointed out as his. It was quite Spartan on the inside. There was wooden chair, a table, a single-sized bed and some lights on the wall.

 _This is ...all?_

Daphne observed the expression on Ares' face. "You will have to transfigure your room to your needs. They have just provided the necessities. Expand it, transfigure it, add stuff and ward it. How you keep your room is a symbol of your status in Slytherin!

 _I never saw that in the grimoire!_ Ares wondered if there were any other customs he needed to be aware of.

"Well. Good night for now then. I will... see you tomorrow morning." Daphne gave him a taunting smirk as she shut the door from outside.

 _That went well._

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:(Dated 20-12-2017) And now it is time for more actors and actresses coming up to the stage to fill in with their roles.**

 **DUMBLEDORE – MICHAEL CAINE (Gambol did a great job but it's time we see some… Caine magic. I wanted it to be Ian McKellen initially but I suppose he will have to wait for another role.)**

 **Skadarken: We did argue a lot over this character. But, we finally came to a resolution. *Leans forward to whisper in the reader's ear* he bribed me for the character.**

 **The roles of MINERVA MCGONAGALL and SEVERUS SNAPE have been played far too excellently to have them swapped. Hence, it is an unbreakable order that they shall continue to be in their roles.**

 **Skadarken: I agreed with him and that was that. I also suggest you guys forward your recommendations of actors/actresses for the characters. Hey Arcturus, Don't you think we should tell them about tha-**

 ***THUD***

 **Sorry, guys. But he was going to reveal a big spoiler. Let's save that for the story, eh… Phew.**


	4. Remus Lupin

**November 1984. Black Manor.**

Sirius fretted anxiously across the floor of the living room, waiting for his guest to arrive. It had been three years since he had come to live at the Black Manor with young Ares. While adjusting to the role of being a father had been tough, he had risen to the challenge, and with the help of Kreacher, he had managed rather well. He only hoped that when he joined his friends in the afterlife, Lily wouldn't hex him for any mistakes he did or would do. She was rather scary with a wand.

While living alone in a manor with only Ares was stifling at first, he had grown used to the isolation. He had avoided all company and his friends to ensure nobody could him. Despite the supposed defeat of Voldemort, his supporters were still out there. When he heard of the attack on Frank and Alice, he had felt a blinding rage and nearly apparated to Britain to kill the Lestranges in their cells. Only his promise to James and the thought of Ares being left alone had stayed his hand. He had sent a letter to Augusta Longbottom, Frank's mother, through an anonymous owl, passing on his condolences and a promise to send help if she ever asked for it.

The other reason to remain isolated was James's warnings of Albus Dumbledore. While Sirius had been sceptical of the words, he held true to his promise. But, over the years, Dumbledore's relentless search for him and Ares and his attempt to initiate an arrest warrant soured his opinion of the old man. His initial investigations into the actions of Dumbledore had painted the Chief Warlock in a new light and news obtained in Europe had slowly opened his eyes to the fact that Dumbledore was not the grandfather figure and leader he portrayed himself to be.

But, a month ago, Sirius had finally received a reply from Moony. A part of him missed the fourth Marauder of his group and had immediately sent back his reply which resulted in today's meeting.

Remus Lupin was arriving at Black manor.

During the attacks on Potter Cottage and the Longbottoms, Remus had been travelling through Europe on Dumbledore's orders, trying to convince the werewolf communities to not join Voldemort. _Somehow_ , Sirius thought with a scowl, the idiot had landed himself in a physical fight with Fenrir Greyback of all people, and nearly got himself killed. Lupin had been hospitalised and it took him over three months to recover. After his recovery, Lupin had disappeared for a long time and Sirius could not find him until the reply that arrived a month ago. Sirius had sent him an owl with a blood-based portkey that would transport him to Black Manor.

Casting a Tempus charm, Sirius moved to the Foyer, knowing the portkey would be activating in a few seconds. He had used a rather powerful piece of enchantment on it to prevent the transport of more than one being and ensuring that it was one-way to prevent any mishaps.

At the appointed time, a bright blue flash appeared in the Foyer while Sirius drew his wand in an instant. While the portkey was blood based and had some heavy security measures, Sirius could not discount the possibility that they could be broken. Hence, he had chosen the Foyer as the drop point, knowing the wards would stun or kill intruders immediately.

Once the flash had disappeared, Sirius recognised it was Lupin standing there, still wearing second-hand faded rags and looking far more haggard compared to the last time they met. Still, the sight of his old friend standing in his home brought a smile to his face.

"Moony! I am so glad you came." Holstering his wand, Sirius strode forward and embraced Moony in a bear hug. "Missed you like hell Moony!"

Remus did not return the embrace. Instead, he gave a simple nod of acknowledgement.

Sirius broke his embrace and found his friend staring at him with cold green eyes. Frowning at the almost hostile look, he asked "What's wrong? Moony?"

"Why did you take Harry away, Sirius?" Remus asked, frigid anger and accusation lacing his voice and words.

"What do you mean, why?" Sirius countered, his eyes narrowing at the question and attitude he was receiving from his oldest friend. "For Harry's safety, of course."

" _Harry's safety?_ " Remus said, acid in his tone. "Is that why you sealed the Potter Vaults so that only you could access them?"

 _What?_ Sirius' face scrunched in confusion. Who would need to access them? As far as Sirius knew, Ares was the last living member and Heir to the House of Potter.

"What the hell are you talking, Remus? Why would I take Harry's money? I have more than enough to live my life as I wish." He countered, a little anger seeping into his voice at the accusation.

"I thought you were cast off from your family. _You_ told me that." Remus countered.

Sirius sighed. This was going to be difficult. While he wanted to invite his friend to sit down in the living room and discuss things, he knew Remus would not move until he got the answers he wanted.

"Remus, it was my mother that cast me out of the family. However, on Halloween of the same year, I found out that she could not cast me out of the family; Only my grandfather, the previous Lord Black, had the right to do so. I am Lord Black now." Sirius ended, knowing that it would only cause more queries.

"Really?" Something about Remus' tone set Sirius on alert. "So Sirius Black, the wayward Gryffindor son who hated everything about his heritage, not only went back to his family but also became the Lord of Black. Seems like he was right!"

"Who was right?" Sirius asked, gritting his teeth in exasperation and anger. Seeing an answer wasn't forthcoming, he barked " **Remus!?** "

"Doesn't matter." Remus did not flinch at his friend's tone. "What matters is that you have changed. You forgot me, forgot Dumbledore, forgot Magical Britain and your old friends. You escaped from Britain to come and hide amidst the confines of your family manor? Why Sirius? Afraid people will know about your true allegiance?"

 _My true allegiance?_ "What rubbish are you talking about?" Sirius's was now beyond anger. This was not what he had anticipated from his friend. While he had expected accusations, he did not think his friend would think of him as an enemy.

"Your brother, remember your brother - Regulus Black?" Remus asked, although there was no query in his voice. "He was captured a few years ago. The Wizengamot tried him in an open trial. He confessed about how you were also among You-Know-Who's secret minions."

 _I do not believe this!_ "And do _you_ believe that, Remus? Do you believe that I would secretly join the Dark Lord? The one who killed my best friend and family? You know that Charlus was more of a father to me than my own father was!"

"That only makes your treachery far more disgusting!" came the swift reply.

"Why are you hell-bent on believing that I am the bad guy?" Sirius exclaimed. "I fought alongside Prongs and Lily! You know very well that I would give my life for him. You know how I would do anything to protect Harry."

"And yet you removed him before Dumbledore could arrange some safe place for him to stay? I know they made you godfather. How wrong they were!" Remus sneered.

"JAMES WARNED ME ABOUT TRUSTING DUMBLEDORE!" Sirius yelled out in exasperation and rage. He wanted to show his friend the truth, but Remus was hell bent on accusing him as a traitor. "HE FUCKING TOLD ME TO TAKE HARRY AWAY! AWAY FROM BRITAIN!"

"How many lies? How many more will you speak, Sirius? James tell you not to trust Dumbledore. What am I, an idiot?" Remus countered, anger and betrayal lacing his tone.

"Well you are almost begging to be considered as one." Sirius muttered irritably.

"I am not a fool, Sirius." Remus said. He wanted to take his friend apart for the betrayal. "James worshipped Dumbledore. He was the one who immediately took up Dumbledore's suggestion of moving into the cottage under a Fidelius charm. He bloody chose Peter as secret-keeper when _Dumbledore_ suggested the idea. And you want me to believe that James, in his dying moments, told you that Albus Dumbledore was not to be trusted. I am not an idiot, _Padfoot_."

Hearing his Marauders name filled with betrayal sent a stab of pain through Sirius's heart. "No, but you always had a worshipful mindset regarding Dumbledore." He replied softly, not willing to believe that his friend was accusing him of being a traitor.

"Dumbledore let me, a werewolf, get an education at Hogwarts. He bent several rules just to see that I was educated properly. He defeated Grindelwald and brought peace to magical Europe. He was our last stand against Voldemort. He was the leader of the Light, and you want me to believe that _James_ told you that Dumbledore was _not to be trusted_?" Remus's voice was filled with disbelief.

"Would you believe a pensieve memory?" Sirius tried, hoping his friend would let him prove that the accusations were a lie and the truth about Dumbledore.

"No." Remus refused the offer without hesitation. "You are a Black. Moreover, you were always skilled in the mind arts. It would be child's play for you to fake a memory. Your brother confessed about your true allegiance, but we lacked the proof to initiate an official investigation. Now I know the truth, _Black_. You took Harry away and confined him here. You want him to grow up with the very ideals that James and Lily fought against. Dumbledore was right."

 _So... Dumbledore poisoned his mind._ Running through their conversation made Sirius reach a conclusion that made his blood boil with rage.

"Dumbledore sent you. Dumbledore told you to contact me. That's right, Remus? Isn't it?" He almost laughed out, half in amusement and half in pain and betrayal. "You did not come here as my friend and Marauder. You came here as _Dumbledore's crony._ You wanted to find out my location. So," His eyes narrowed. "are Dumbledore and the others coming here any moment?"

Remus stayed silent, eyes blazing with a hidden fury.

"Unfortunately for them, Lupin," Sirius's tone turned feral. "This manor is under the Blood Fidelius. Only those welcomed by me can even find their way in. And after today, you won't able to either."

"Why Black? Going to kill me?" Remus sneered coldly.

Sirius' eyes widened, but then he controlled himself. His fists clenched. "I am devastated that you did not believe me, Remus. You chose Dumbledore over your friends. I will remember that. And no, Remus, I will not kill you. I will simply remove the knowledge from your mind."

Remus sneered. "Try your worst!" His wand whipped out into his palm.

* * *

What followed the next fifteen minutes could be considered as one of the fiercest duels ever fought. It was not a war between mages of immense magical prowess. It was not a duel between titans like Dumbledore, Grindelwald or Voldemort. It was a fight of pure skill, a duel between two deadly fighters, both similar in magical prowess, fighting each other with one single thought running through their minds.

Vengeance.

Spells collided with each other, walls were torn and the furniture was obliterated with the pieces transfigured into powerful attacks against each other. Snakes, birds, javelins, spears, arrows, lightning, fire, water and charms were thrown with precision. Two powerful spell repertoires clashed with immense skill. Light, Dark and Grey spells were liberally thrown around. All the knowledge of magic employed in pranking, the skill they developed together was now being used against each other as the two remaining marauders engaged each other in a deadly dance.

A deadly dance that seemed to only end with the death of one of them.

As the fight continued to chip away at their stamina and magical reserves, two objectives dominated the mind of Remus. His primary emotion was vengeance, his inner wolf baying for the blood of the traitor. The secondary objective was to give Dumbledore as much time as possible. The old mage had divined a ritual based on the forbidden arts of blood magic to counter the Blood Fidelius around Sirius's location. It was magically taxing, and required Remus to remain on location for forty minutes.

Despite all the stigma surrounding the arts in the modern day, Blood-based magic was still considered to be one of the strongest arcane arts available to mages. It allowed the achievement of effects that were considered impossible within the normal arts. While the headmaster had to perform heavy research in a field with which he had little experience, Dumbledore had divined the ritual successfully. However, the success came with quite a few conditions. Carrying a specific artefact on his person filled with the blood of the caster and himself, Remus would have to reveal his true intentions and stay at the location for forty minutes.

It was opposed to the principle the Fidelius charm was based on. TRUST. The person knowing the secret needed to betray the host with full knowledge of the consequences and yet hold his ground to stay in said location, even if the betrayer would have to fight for his life. It was quite difficult, but it was the only chance.

After all, it was all being done for Harry.

On the other hand, Sirius was fighting with a single thought in mind. His son. Ares James Black. There was no way he would let the old fool come in and take little Harry from him. No fucking way. If this meant standing against the world, he would do it.

He moved beyond his usual skills and was now relying on the deadly magic that he had learnt from his grandfather. Magicks dark and powerful enough that Sirius was still wary of using the full extent of them. He was still trying to defeat his old friend using normal offensive magic, but it seemed that he needed to up his ante.

What neither of the two duelists had noticed was that the spells had set fire to a curtain, causing a lot of smoke to slowly invade the manor. Neither of them knew that the smoke had attracted the attention of the baby who was playing in a room a few doors away.

* * *

Three-year-old Ares James Black was busy playing with his toy broomstick. Sirius had bought it for him and applied wide scale cushioning charms all over the play room so that he might not fall and hurt himself. Besides, the toy broomstick had inbuilt child-safety charms. The little lad was almost a natural; with the way he madly flying all across the room with little instruction.

Suddenly he heard noises and bangs coming out of the hallway. He heard his Pa' foo shouting and yelling in anger. Feeling apprehensive, he slowly came down to the ground and, leaving his broomstick on the floor, darted out of the room by pushing open the door. He knew that his Pa' foo roaring in anger and shouting at the top of his voice. That felt strange. His Pa' foo never shouted. Not at him.

The little boy darted down the corridor into the hallway, hearing.

Reaching the hallway, he was completely shocked and surprised at the event taking place. The entire place was in ruins, with smoke and fire blazing out. The curtain was now completely torn and burning with bright flames and the emerald rug - his playground in the hallway - was completely obliterated. In the living room, there was another big man standing opposite his Pa' foo and was firing spells and shouting. His Pa' foo was trying to stop him, firing jets of light back at him.

Then the big man fired out a jet of dark crimson.

The events triggered memories buried deep within the mind of the small child.

 ** _A loud bang! The door to his playroom opened and his mother darted over to him, her hair swishing around her face. He always liked to play with her red hairs. It was so curly and long. He liked to twirl his little finger around his mother's hairs. His mother would always sing him a lullaby to sleep. Moreover, his Dada would always take him to fly. He loved the feeling when he flew on his broomstick. He—_**

 ** _There was another loud bang, and there was fire. He started crying._**

 ** _His mummy embraced him and started whispering to him anxiously._**

 ** _"Don't worry Harry! Everything will be all right! Mummy loves you! Mummy will take care of you! Daddy loves you! Mummy loves you!" she was nearly chanting the words._**

 ** _Then, the door to his playroom broke into hundreds of splinters, hitting his mummy who cried out in pain. One of the splinters created a small gash on his head, causing him pain. A tall man in a dark cloak stood on the doorway, his wand in his hand. Harry did not like him at all. He was a big bad man._**

 ** _"Step aside! And I will spare your life!"_**

 ** _"NO!" his mummy screamed. "Not Harry! Kill me instead! Kill me! Please let him stay alive!"_**

 ** _Harry felt something stir inside of him. It was just like how he felt when he was very hungry._**

 ** _"Move aside girl!" The bad man admonished her._**

 ** _"Please don't kill Harry! Let him be alive! Kill me instead!"_**

 ** _"Last chance girl! Move aside!"_**

 ** _His mummy was steadfast as ever. She stood gallantly in front of him, protecting Harry from the bad man._**

 ** _"Mummy!" Harry cried._**

 ** _"Be safe Harry!" his mummy told him one last time._**

 ** _The bad man let out a loud laugh. Harry did not like him at all._**

 ** _He raised his wand and uttered a spell- a spell that was forever embedded in Harry's mind._**

 ** _"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_**

 ** _His mummy let out a shriek of pain, as she embraced the entire jet of green light that was coming to Harry's path and absorbed it; falling down on the floor._**

 ** _That odd feeling in Harry's abdomen was now almost a burning sensation._**

 ** _"MUMMMY!"_**

 ** _The bad man let out another laugh._**

 ** _"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_**

 ** _The jet of green flew out at him, and Harry erupted out in rage. His mummy was silent. The bad man had done something to her._**

 ** _"MUMMY!"_**

 ** _Something moved within him. A bright pulse energy tore through his body and radiated out of him. The pulse of energy met the killing curse midway and threw it back hitting the bad man, who was shocked at the occurrence. Harry was too angry to care._**

 ** _"MUMMY! MUMMY!" He cried in desperation. The pain inside him was burning. He wanted it to stop. There was a scream and something like a black tendril suddenly entered into his forehead through the gash, causing a burning sensation. Harry cried out in agony, crying for his mummy, for his daddy, for it to stop._**

 ** _However, the pain would just not stop. The tendril had completely entered his head by now and then, his forehead was searing with pain. As if someone was cutting his skin._**

 ** _Then, it was suddenly over. No more pain. No more burning._**

 ** _Harry lost himself to oblivion._**

Now that memory brought back those feelings inside him. Another big bad man was hurting his Pa' foo. The magic roared inside him, and Ares acted on instinct.

"PA' FOO!"

Sirius looked sharply at Ares to see his son standing in the hallway. The shock of finding his son here, amidst the battle, stupefied him, and that proved to be his undoing. The pause in his action allowed Remus to take advantage, a powerful bone-breaker shattering his left shoulder and causing him to cry out in pain. That brought a smile in Remus' face, a smile that vanished almost instantly, upon hearing the sound of rage that came from the young child.

 _Harry!_

A huge shaft of energy shot out of Ares's outstretched hand towards Remus. He hastily put up his strongest shield but it was obliterated in a second, as the shaft struck Remus, flinging the man towards a wall at high speed. Remus hit one of the wall with a sickening thud and fell unceremoniously to the ground. Blood trickled out from his head, as he lost unconsciousness.

Feeling his strength sapped in a moment, Ares slid to the floor as he fell unconscious.

* * *

Blinking to take the events that had occurred in front of him, Sirius stood shakily, holding his wand to his left shoulder as he cast a minor healing spell. His shoulder was shattered, but the spell would hold him together until he could get to a healer. Seeing Ares on the floor, he darted towards him. Kneeling on the floor, he checked his breath and pulse. Ares was still breathing and his pulse was strong. Realising he was knocked out due to magical exhaustion, Sirius levitated Ares and placed him on a conjured mattress. Calling Kreacher and instructing him to clear the room, Sirius looked at Ares again, to reassure himself. Ares was perfectly alright. He just needed a Pepper-up potion. Or Two.

Taking one last glance at his son, Sirius limped his way across the hallway. His knee was bleeding, courtesy of one of Rem- _Lupin's_ severing curses that might have hit him. Blood was oozing out, but he would deal with it later. For now, he needed to obliviate the bastard, and throw him outside the manor's wards. He had felt the Fidelius shifting out. Dumbledore must have employed some kind of obscure magic to counteract the Fidelius and somehow tied them to Lupin. He berated himself for deactivating the wards for Lupin's visit. He saw the unconscious man, and waved his wand in front of him, yelling...

"OBLIVIATE!"

Checking to ensure his memories were completely erased and removing his access to the Fidelius, he levitated the wolf, walked out of the manor through the front door and summoned his broom. Mounting the broom, and throwing Lupin's unconscious form in front of him, he flew to the edge of the wards. He could feel the Fidelius disintegrating and he was worried that he would be found.

Ares would not be safe anymore.

Reaching the edge of the warded property, he let out a yell and threw the bloodied man beyond the ward. A day earlier, he would have given his life for the man he had called friend, but now, he was nothing but a traitor. Ironic, considering Lupin accused him of being one. Sirius focused his occlumency, suppressing his emotions threatening to overwhelm him and slowly grasped control over his mind. He felt the Fidelius stabilising as soon as Remus was outside the wards. After an anxious twenty seconds, the Fidelius was strong was usual.

Sirius turned the broom around and flew back to the manor's now destroyed foyer. Limping into the living room – Kreacher had cleaned out the debris and was now replacing the curtains - he took Ares in his arms, and threw some Floo powder into the fireplace, shouting "Gringotts, Bulgaria!"

The fire within turned bright green as Sirius, holding onto his son tightly, walked into the flames.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:(Dated20-12-2017) We have one actor for this chapter.**

 **REMUS LUPIN – PAUL BETTANY**

 **Don't you guys think that Paul would have done a much better job at this role….? I wish I could Imperius him… Not that I would.**

 **Skadarken: Don't believe him, people. He's obsessed with that spell.**

 **My fellow author has yet to the subtle art of subtlety.**

 **Skadarken: Says the guy with the grammar of a five-year old. Either way, you will continue to see more Magical theory from this point onwards. And quite a bit of exposition.**

 **Oh, Don't worry. Harry and Daphne will get their screen space. We have… brewed plans for such eventualities.**

 **Skadarken: DON'T BELIEVE HIM, PEOPLE. HE'S NOT BREWING PLANS. HE'S BREWING AMO-**

 ***THUD***

 **As I was saying before my fellow** _ **rudely**_ **interrupted me, I shall endeavour to abandon age old practices and usher in new era of romance never seen before.**

 **Random Fan – Good job on the Dolores impersonation, Arcturus.**

 ***Brain cells begin popping*…Enjoythestoryseeyoulater**


	5. Day One at the Snake Pit

Ares woke up on his plush velvety bed in his room. Sitting up and stretching his legs, he looked around the room with a faint sense of loss. He missed his bed, he missed his favorite juice, and he even missed the batty old elf trying to pull away the covers. Most important of all, he missed his Pad, his father, Sirius Black.

Ever since he had started to learn more words, Sirius had always encouraged him to call him Padfoot (Pa 'foo sounded way too baby-ish, even for him) which had shortened to Pad. They had discussed the issue of what Ares would call Sirius and had arrived at the solution. Sirius was his Pad, his father (when being talked about or in public) while James and Lily would remain his Dad and Mum respectively. The trunk Sirius had collected from Godric's Hollow before he left Britain with Ares had been of immense help as well. His mum and dad had carefully stored months of memories in little vials in the trunk. Along with the memories, the trunk contained the school journals of his Mum and Dad, and the Potter Family Grimoire; though Ares had not been able to open it until he had claimed the Lordship of the House of Potter. The trunk also contained a map, with small dots and obscure symbols written all over it. He and Sirius had spared countless hours trying to decipher the map, but their efforts were for naught. Sirius had never married and had made Ares his life; and Ares had enjoyed every moment of his life so far.

Breaking out of his thoughts, Ares looked down at his right hand. The two wands were sheathed in single holster. He had developed the habit of sleeping with his wands since his tutor had started _special_ training methods. When he was eight-years-old, Sirius had decided that he would begin his wand training; They had approached the premier wand maker of Bulgaria, Mykew Gregorovitch, and commissioned him to _craft_ a wand for Ares. His _white_ wand.

The wand was made of Deathwood, and covered in ivory casing made from the teeth of a Grim. The core was the heartstring of an ice-dragon. It was quite a rare core and to say that Gregorovitch was surprised would be an understatement. Gregorovitch was downright excited to the point that he had constructed the entire wand and not even added a ministry-tracer to it, at Sirius' request.

As for his other wand, his dad's mahogany wand worked perfectly in his hand. The core was the heartstring of a Hungarian horntail, and the wood was enclosed in a holly casing. It was his _black_ wand. The white wand was extremely good at offensive magicks, even amplifying their power by a small factor, while the black wand was efficient at transfiguration. Surprising the duo, Ares was found to be equally proficient with utilising two wands simultaneously. Ever since the day he had acquired his white wand, Ares had practiced using both wands simultaneously, to devastating effects.

Sirius had never forbidden him from learning any arts of magic, only reminding him repeatedly of one single statement:

 _No knowledge in the magical arts is forbidden; only certain practices are. Everything is available to you if you are in control of your magic – The inverse of which has only served to bring destruction._

The fact that Ares could cast simultaneously with two wands was a secret that he and Sirius had gone to great lengths to hide, even resorting to obliviations when necessary. Sirius had done his best to turn him into a fearsome wizard, while working alongside him, keeping himself in proper shape and skill. The effort had nearly tripled after Ares had acquired his lordships.

Remembering he had classes to attend, Ares shook himself off from his reveries and stood upon the cold stone floor, causing a shiver to go through him. _Need to do something about this!_

He twisted his wrist and, with a zip-like noise, his black wand was in his right hand. Waving across his wand across the floor, a couple of plastic plates were conjured, and then transfigured into a plush carpet that covered the entire floor.

Looking over his work, Ares nodded to himself. _That will suffice for now! That reminds me, I will need a guard for my room._

He twirled his wand in a clockwise turn and then cut a straight line through the curve and cast his spell in silence. _Serpensortia!_

A silvery black adder was summoned out of his wand tip, the adder immediately curling on the floor and turning towards the human it regarded as a sudden threat. It hissed dangerously at being summoned from its own habitat. Ares looked at the adder and hissed in Parseltongue. " _I am sorry for summoning you, but I need a guard!"_

" _A speaker? Oh, as you wish; speaker!"_

He smirked. Parseltongue was a handy thing. Apparently, a Parselmouth, or as the snakes would say, a Speaker, could command snakes and the snakes were magically bound to do their bidding. He had done extensive research on Parseltongue, especially after finding out everything he could about his ability from the Slytherin Grimoire. Apparently, when a Speaker talked with a snake, the snake would gain a momentary increase in its intelligence and thus, was able to conduct a few simple tasks at the Speaker's bidding. After the snake had been dismissed, it reverted to a 'normal snake' and lost its increased intelligence.

Ares looked straight at the adder and hissed clearly. " _I wish for you to rest in my room. I will bring you food regularly. In return, you shall watch out for threats. If anyone enters my room without my permission, you have my permission to stop them; you may only bite them, if that is the last option available."_

The snake bowed to him and went under his bed, coiling itself to sleep.

"Time to get out for the first day in the Snake pit." Ares chuckled to himself and began his preparations for the day.

* * *

Opening the door, Ares found himself facing Daphne and the rest of the gang. His luxuriant hair, remaining an untidy mess despite his best efforts at taming it, was a lost case for him. He had tried everything he could, but the bush just had to grow and sprout out all over. Daphne had playfully dubbed his hair as 'after-shagged'; for which he still teased her to this day.

"Morning Daph! Morning Miss Davis!" He wished them, half swallowing a yawn that escaped his mouth.

"Morning Ares, and please call me Tracy!" Tracey gave a bright smile and Ares nodded in acceptance to her words.

"Morning Black!" Blaise wished, and so did Theo; and Ares returned it equally.

"So, going up for breakfast?" Ares gestured towards the common room.

"Yea!" Blaise replied. "Daphne over here, wanted to wait for her _lover_." He replied surly, but Ares could see that he was just teasing.

"Why Daph? Is that true?" Turning to Daphne, Ares waggled his eyebrows at her, causing Daphne to roll her eyes.

"Come on everyone, let's go!" Daphne began walking off towards the common room; Ares and the others quickly caught up with her. They had hardly crossed the corridor when Ares suddenly grasped her hand and pulled her aside to a narrow alcove in the shadows.

"What are you-" Daphne began but Ares shut her up with a kiss. When the others stopped by to wait for them, he called out. "We have some- err- stuff to talk about. You people go on. We will join you soon!"

"What are you DOING?" Daphne hissed- her voice limited to a coarse whisper, as her friends left for the Great Hall.

Ares smirked. "Having some quality time with my girlfriend."

Daphne looked saucily at him, and placed a finger on his cheek. "Is that so, Mr. Black? Is it the same girlfriend whom you avoided all through the journey on the train so that _you_ could have a nap?" She asked in a sweet voice.

Ares gulped. "You-erm- You heard about- the- that, Daph?"

"Yes, my dear boyfriend!" Daphne continued in her overly-sweetened voice.

Ares looked clumsily at her face. "Will a couple of kisses help in decreasing your anger by a tiny little bit?"

Daphne shook her head in denial.

"Then perhaps this?" Ares closed the distance between them and kissed her full on her lips. Kissing Daphne, the feel of her full pink lips, with one hand on her waist and the other on her... it was wonderful; better than firewhiskey, better than elven wine; just him, Daphne and that sweet perfume she always wore; an aroma that was strictly... 'Daphne'.

Their lips separated after an entire minute, proving that even the most passionate lovers needed oxygen. Daphne's face was flushed, her lips swollen and her hair slightly disheveled. Ares' lips were colored by a tinge of Daphne's lipstick. His hair was just as untidy as it was before the entire kissing sequence had begun.

"Does that eviscerate a tiny little bit of your anger?" Ares asked, still regaining his breath.

Daphne nodded. "But a lot of anger is still left."

Ares smirked and Daphne blushed deeply."Do you think you should go for that breakfast?" He asked, Daphne nodded, and Ares continued. "Not that I'm saying that _this_ breakfast is any less."

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Let's go!" she replied, and the duo went to breakfast together, hand in hand. Neither of them thought about leaving the other's hand.

* * *

The great Hall was swarming with people. Students of all houses, wearing their House robes, occupied seats at their House tables for breakfast in the Great Hall. Ares and Daphne joined the rest of the group whistles and catcalls began when students spotted their joined hands. The pair realized what the matter was and immediately separated their hands, which resulted in more sniggering amongst the fourth and fifth years. Just as he and Daphne approached empty seats near their friends, Ares heard someone clear his throat behind him. Turning back, he found the blond ponce, and the two henchmen, who interrupted his nap on the train standing there.

"So, _you_ are Harry Potter." Malfoy asked, a trace of sneer in his voice.

Ares nodded. "Yes, but my official name is Ares James Black. I would be _gratified_ if you would refer to me by my official name."

Malfoy seemed to give him a calculating look, nodded and then turned back as though to return to his seat, only to turn back and remark. "You know Potter; you should stick by Potter. After all, that is _also_ an Ancient Family name. After all, I shall be the Lord Black when I come of-age. So, rather than live under my influence and name, I would have thought you would choose to call yourself Potter."

Ares eyed Draco queerly. "Tell me Malfoy, why... do _you_ have the confidence that you will be the Lord Black?"

Malfoy gave him a haughty look. "Because I am the only Black Scion here in Britain and the Heir Apparent. Apart from being the heir to the Noble House of Malfoy of course." He finished, his voice blustering with self-proclaimed importance.

Ares wondered how very similar Malfoy sounded to a Ministry employee he had the misfortune to meet a couple of months ago. "Hmm. Mister Malfoy, do you remember what I told you on the train?" he asked in an innocent tone of voice.

Malfoy looked back at him as if talking to a simpleton.

Ares smirked at him, his voice turning to a tone of condescension. "Of course, why would you! You must have hit your head really hard! I did tell you to make sure of the merit of the knowledge you hold, before speaking of such matters. Anyway, it was a thought from my father." Lifting a finger, he continued "No wait, scratch that. It was a thought told to me by my father, _Lord Sirius Black_ , The Lord Black. And this," he shoved the shiny Black heir ring, that appeared on his right hand, in Malfoy's face, "—is the ring worn by _the_ Heir Apparent of the Noble and Ancient House of Black. Just like this-" Another ring appeared on the same hand. "—is the ring worn by the Lord of the Noble and Ancient House of Potter. Do you understand, Draco Malfoy of the Noble House of Malfoy, what I am trying to convey?" He finished in a lecturing voice, as if trying to impart knowledge to a particularly stubborn student.

Draco's face changed color from pale to green in jealousy and finally turned to crimson in anger. He stared at Ares for a long moment, and then shouted. "This isn't over, Potter!" Turning back to his henchmen, he marched off towards his seat.

Ares just sighed at the blond' antics.

"Let's get some breakfast!" Daphne suggested. Ares nodded and sat down beside her and began piling his plate with food. He took a bite of a rather delicious looking ham sandwich and turned to observed the students at the various House tables.

* * *

A redheaded, tall and dangly boy entered into the Great Hall followed by two of his friends. The boy and his parley were all wearing Gryffindor robes and unlike every other Gryffindor who had made his or her way towards the table of red and gold, this group approached the Slytherin table.

Just as Ares took a bite of a delicious treacle tart, he felt Daphne touch his arm from underneath the table. He turned towards her, an eyebrow raised in question. Realising she was pointing her chin towards the end of the table, he turned to find the redhead and his two friends approaching his direction. Heaving a mental sigh, he readied himself for the possible altercation that was about to happen. Not even a day at Hogwarts and already this was probably the fourth person to try to confront him. Ares wondered, not for the first time, about the possible tomfoolery that was Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The redhead and his friends stopped in front of Ares and stared at him for two seconds, as if judging him from his table manners. After his possible scanning was over, the redhead's face shifted, almost funnily, into a scowl and he began to speak, with spit coming out of his mouth. "You disappoint me, Potter."

On reflex, Ares waved his left hand over the table and a silver shield appeared, protecting the meal from the redhead' spit. Daphne, her friends and several of the students sitting at the table, including the redhead's friends, glanced at him in awe at such a blatant display of wandless magic.

The redhead however, had completely ignored the display, especially given how he began his diatribe with "How dare you Potter, mingling with slimy Slytherins? What would your parents think of you?"

The entire hall including the teachers had fallen silent at the redhead's words and were watching the proceeding's with avid interest.

Ares shook his face and inclined it at an angle, observing the redhead as though he was a particularly odd specimen of the human race. "And who might you be?"

"I am Ron Weasley." The declaration was coupled with a snort from the blonde ponce, but he ignored it.

Ares looked at Ron Weasley with a speculative look, almost akin to the way in which a zoologist notices a particularly annoying bug he is about to catch. "Let me rephrase my statement. What I meant was, what is it to you where I am sorted and why did you yell like a moron, not to mention, strictly endanger the dedicated cooking of the Hogwarts house elves?"

Due to the silence enveloping the hall, Ares heard a spoon fall over on the Gryffindor table, followed by some quickly muttered comments about condemning elves to a life of slavery, how the food was slave labor and a backward society living in the middle ages. Turning his focus back to the redhead, he sat, waiting for an adequate answer.

Ares and his friends were treated to the sight of a ripe tomato. The redhead was possibly so angry that his face was imitating a ripe tomato.

Ron Weasley banged the Slytherin table, getting filthy looks from the other slytherins at the table; Not that he noticed, Ron was too busy staring at Ares with what seemed to be irrepressible hatred. "You are _Harry Potter._ The bloody boy-who-lived. You should have been in Gryffindor, and been my best mate, but instead you do not turn up at all. And now that you are finally here, you join the house of snakes and hang out with that harlot, you-"

Ron continued ranting and after a whole minute, he realized that he was not making any actual noise. His voice had been silenced – he couldn't see a single wand pointed in his direction - while Ares Black stood in front of him, a cold, calculating glare on his face.

Ares left his spoon on the table and put a finger on Weasley's chest. "Listen up you imbecile. Since I do not know you and this is the first time we have met, you get _one_ chance. Do not expect mercy from me. One more insult about me, my family or Daphne, _you_ will learn to fear me more than you ever feared that wanker you called a Dark lord."

Daphne looked all around the hall. She wondered if it was a good thing that the teaching staff was absent from the Hall. When Ares had compared himself with the Dark Lord, Daphne noticed the entire school eye him with curiosity, fear, anger, challenge and interest.

Ron was quite intimidated by the cold threatening pose but his Gryffindor bravery rose back in him. He sneered. "Of course, you are a snake after all. It is obvious that you will become a dark wizard, if you're not already one, and follow You-Know-Who. You are a shame on your parent's memory, you bastard, and you-"

The rest of Ron's diatribe was immediately cut off as he was pounced upon by a large Asiatic lion with jet black fur and frightening emerald green eyes that oozed power. The entire beast was covered in voluptuous manes and was greater than eight feet in length. Ron found himself spread-eagled on the floor of the Great Hall, with the 800-pound creature above him, and two gigantic paws on his arms, both of which were broken and were slowly oozing blood, sharp spikes of pain spearing through him.

Silence pervaded the Great Hall.

Pin. Drop. Silence.

It seemed as if everyone's breath was taken away the instant the boy, who had compared himself to the Dark Lord, had suddenly morphed into a ferocious beast and pinned Weasley to the floor. Even his brothers and sister from the Gryffindor table were silent. Nobody's mind seemed to be functioning at that instant.

The great lion let out a formidable roar and Ronald Weasley's pants became wet, as a watery fluid seemed to seep out of his robes and spread out on the floor of the Great Hall.

The lion brought its extra-large and shiny fang deadly closed to Ron's neck as he whimpered in pain and fear. Then, it morphed and Ares Black was standing there, his left leg still on one of Ron's bloodied hands.

"I will speak just this once." Ares spoke, rage churning in his voice. "So listen to me, and listen well. I am Ares James Black, the son and heir of Sirius Orion Black, The Lord Black. And this is warning to everyone; Next time anyone insults my parentage, it won't turn out nice for you." He looked down upon the fallen redhead. "And next time _Weasley_ , mind your tongue before I feel I need to tear it out of your meddlesome mouth!"

Glaring at the redhead for a second longer, Ares stalked out of Great Hall.

Silence.

Daphne stood up, and raced out after her boyfriend, leaving her friends to watch her run after her boyfriend. She arrived at the entrance and took a sharp left to follow Ares.

Pandemonium ensued.

* * *

The Great Hall was in complete chaos. There were noises everywhere, from cries of pain (the Weasley on the floor) to complete indignation (Ron's sister and friends) to silent discussions (the Weasley twins) to complete chaos (the rest of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff). Ravenclaw was divided into two groups; one was busy trying to figure out how the fifteen-year old had been able to morph so effortlessly into a lion. Such ease was only demonstrated by their Transfiguration teacher, and for a fifth-year to do that was baffling. The other group was politically inclined and were busy discussing over the facts in reference to Harry Potter —ahem—Ares Black being the heir of one and Lord of another Noble and Ancient House.

The Slytherins, however, were divided into multiple factions. The sixth and seventh years were either happy that a soon-to-be dual lord, a magically powerful wizard at that, had joined their House; or wary about Ares Black being a potential opponent towards their power block and existing hierarchy. Draco Malfoy was of a similar mindset as the latter. Tracy, Blaise and Theo were both in awe of Harry's innate magical power and skill, and quite impressed at his not so subtle threat and the ruthless domination that had followed it.

Blaise, in particular, was extremely impressed by the ruthlessness shown by Ares Black. For years, Ronald Weasley had grown from an obnoxious loudmouth to a potential problem for many Slytherins, especially the juniors. Weasley and his band of merry men would randomly capture a Slytherin firstie and hex them. The irritating part was that the grand old moron they called a Headmaster would simply pass it off as 'childish immaturity' and a 'simple prank'.

Another major problem was Draco Malfoy. The obnoxious peacock held the innate belief that he, with all his father's connections, had the right to rule Slytherin House and his fellow students. The problem was that the house seemed to allow it, and even _believe_ it. During the initial years, Draco was simply a loudmouth with not an ounce of Slytherin cunning and subtlety in him; but as he grew older, his tantrums seemed to increase. To top it off, the Head of House was Draco's own godfather. Suffice it to say, Draco Malfoy, the arrogant peacock of Slytherin, had been damaging the reputation of the house for years.

Then, Ares James Black had entered Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The sorting night, Ares declared himself as a perfect pureblood scion and follower of the old customs. Ares might not know that, but Blaise Zabini knew quite well that he had attracted the attention of the more egalitarian Slytherins. It was no coincidence after all, that the seventh year Prefect had introduced himself to him. It might have been a common thing in Hufflepuff or even Gryffindor, but this was Slytherin. Not one hour of being sorted, and Ares Black had already made his first masterstroke.

Now, Ares Black had already taken the sting out of the fangs of the likes of both Ronald Weasley and Draco Malfoy in less than twenty minutes. The former, with a subtle demonstration of political power and cunning; and the later by a more formidable projection of his magical prowess. While many would have considered Ares's actions as Gryffindorish, Blaise Zabini knew it in his heart- after all, there was a reason why Black was the Lord Slytherin. That reminded him, Black had not even mentioned his Slytherin lordship to anyone. If anything, he seemed to be working to keep the fact a secret. Was it his ace in the hole for some future altercation, or was it that Ares Black simply played his cards close to his chest?

Blaise smirked. Oh yes, Ares James Black, or should one say, Harry Potter, was definitely interesting.

The professors had quickly ushered into the Great Hall, owing to the developing chaotic situation. The formidable roar of a lion inside Hogwarts also might have added to the cause. McGonagall and Snape were the first to enter, quickly followed by the rest. McGonagall fired up a loud explosive sound from her wand, and the hall fell silent.

"Now, someone please come up and tell me what has happened." Mcgonagall stated coldly.

Dean Thomas was quicker than the rest, and jumped off the Gryffindor table and stood in front of the old Transfiguration professor. "Harry Potter changed into a big lion and pounced on Ron, Professor, breaking his arms."

"WHAT?"

Mcgonagall and Snape had uttered the same word in unison. The fact that the duo had shared the same expression, even if said expression was limited to a single word, was completely loathsome to both of them. Minerva and Severus glared at each other with a distasteful expression and she turned towards the Thomas boy.

"Mr. Thomas, are you impliying that Mr. Black intentionally attacked and injured Mr. Weasley?"

"That's exactly what I am saying professor. That filthy snake-" Dean began, but Snape cut him short, "Ten points from Gryffindor for unwanted name-calling." That shut Dean up.

"Please professor," This time, the voice rose from the House of green and silver. Tracey Davis stood up. "Ares and everyone else were busy having breakfast when _Weasley_ came up to our table and started throwing insults about him and Slytherin House. He denigrated Black as a dark wizard and insulted his family. Black even gave him two chances to fall back but Weasley . ." She ended her diatribe, with her last words punctuated loudly.

Blaise stood up and faced Professor Snape. "Ares gave Weasley two chances to back-off. Then, Weasley also insulted Daphne and Ares's birth-parents. It was then that Ares morphed into a black lion and pounced on him. Then, he simply morphed back and threatened him to be more careful of his words in future."

"He threatened to bite his tongue off!" Seamus sneered.

"That was basically a cold threat to back off, Slytherin-style." Blaise countered.

"ENOUGH!" Snape thundered, "Now I am going to ask this once. Where are Ron Weasley and Ares Black?"

"Ron is here, Professor." Someone cried out from the crowd. The two professors quickly approached the parting crowds and found Weasley still lying down on the ground; his two arms fractured and bloodied. The floor all around him was smeared in either blood or some kind of pale yellowish liquid.

Severus quickly muttered a few incantations and the cuts on Weasley's arms healed, and then he levitated the injured boy from off the floor. "Now, where is Ares Black?"

"He stomped out of the Hall, after nearly killing Weasley, Professor." A boy in red and gold answered.

Looking towards the Slytherin table, Severus replied. "I want one of you to find Ares Black, and inform him that he needs to report to the Headmaster's office. This is urgent and _not_ negotiable." The boy, a certain Terry Midgen, looked blankly at the professor and nodded. Severus stared at the Slytherin table for a moment and then stomped off, levitating Weasley with his wand, in the direction of the Hospital wing.

Minerva watched him leave, and seeing that the matter was temporarily resolved, followed him to the infirmary.

* * *

"Ares! Ares! Stop!"

Ares turned back to stop his stride and looked behind to see his girlfriend standing a few feet away, holding her hands on her stomach and panting slowly.

"Where are you off to?" Daphne asked, exasperated.

"I need to cool my temper off; else I'm not sure what I will do. Does this damned school have any such place?"

Daphne thought for a moment, and then recognition hit her. "There is one room which you can use, but we have to be discreet. It is not exactly an _open_ spot."

He might have been in anger at the moment, but not enough to _not take_ advantage when he saw a chance. Especially when it was a chance to make his girlfriend blush.

"I see how it is. First day at school and you are already sneaking me away to secluded places. If I didn't know any better, I would say that's incredibly forward of you, Miss Greengrass."

Daphne's face imitated a fresh tomato for a moment as the subtle dig hit her, and she looked away from him in embarrassment. Getting her blush under control, she proceeded to punch him on the arm, but Ares had simply removed his arm in time. Merlin knew the girl had a solid right-hook. He had been on the receiving end too many times to not know it.

"So where is this secluded - I mean, where is this not-so-open spot?" Ares asked, changing his words mid-speech on seeing his girlfriend turn scary. Yes, Daphne was damned scary. Even Scylla, his pet adder, accepted that. The adder was ferocious, but would suddenly run (slither away, that is) like a terrified puppy when he would call on the pet to save himself from Daphne's wrath.

So yes, Daphne was one scary girl.

"Follow me!" she commanded and Ares, knowing that the wise thing to do would be to silently follow her command, simply walked off in unison to her footsteps.

* * *

Standing in front of a rather plain wall on the seventh floor, Ares wondered, not for the first time, if his girlfriend was a bit... barmy. Daphne was walking back and forth in front of the wall, her face scrunched up.

"Are you... thinking about something, Daph?"

Daphne paid no heed to his query and continued her pacing. After the third time she paced in front of the wall, Ares was surprised to find a door materializing out from the blank wall.

 _Nice Illusion!_

The door opened and Daphne stepped in, with Ares following behind. It was a near-empty room, with the walls and floor nicely cushioned and a few well-placed couches.

"Come with me." Daphne muttered and walked up and sat on one of the couches, which did look comfortable. Ares walked towards her and then heard the door close. He turned back to find the door had vanished.

Taking a long glance around the entire room, Ares asked "What... is this place?"

"This is the Room of Requirement. House elves call it the Come-and-go Room." Daphne answered. "It has the ability to transform itself into-"

"—whatever the user wants!" Ares finished for her.

Daphne raised her eyebrow. "How did you know that?"

"Slytherin Grimoire." Ares replied off-handedly. "Slytherin wrote about Ravenclaw building one such Chamber, something that was unequivocally as good, if not better, than his fabled Chamber of Secrets. Of course, he also stated that if asked in public, he would vehemently deny that he had ever praised Rowena's creation at all; forget comparing it to his fabled Chamber."

"Salazar Slytherin _praising_ Ravenclaw! Now that is something spicy. You remember I told you about the Chamber of Secrets being opened and all?" asked Daphne.

Ares nodded.

Smiling, Daphne said "You told me that it was a bluff, but it was true. A body was indeed taken into the Chamber, and never brought back."

"Who was it?" he asked, curious.

"Romilda Vane. She was a Gryffindor first year. There were some rumours pertaining to a book and Ginny Weasley also, but it was all shushed-up. The headmaster silenced up the entire issue and put the information on lockdown."

Ares mused on the information as he absently replied "He seems to be that type. No wonder Pad hates him."

"How is Sirius? Won't he come back here?" Daphne asked, interested.

"Pad, he has some matters he needs to take care of. After he is done, he will probably come back, but not until something drastic happens; you know, something drastic for a Marauder." Ares winked towards her.

"I can only wonder what could classify as drastic, then!" Daphne commented sassily.

"Well, there are a few. I kill someone. I prank the Headmaster into insanity. The world gets doomed. I get someone preg-" Ares stopped midway, seeing the sudden blush forming on his girlfriend's cheeks and an equally red tinge forming on his own. "Anyway," he circumvented, "I do not think he will be here before Christmas anyway. Till then, I am on my own."

Fighting down her blush, Daphne asked "What is so special about Christmas?"

Ares shrugged. "I don't know. He told me that he would come and have some important and unavoidable meeting with your dad about our possible-" He tried his best to avoid her eyes. "-engagement. And then there was something else, but he told me off!"

The couple did not look at each other for a couple of seconds until Ares decided to break the ice. "So, what does this Room do? Does it have any limits?"

"Not that I know off." Daphne shrugged casually.

"So if I were to imagine a large swimming pool and a-" he paused temporarily as he saw water slowly forming out of nowhere, and the sudden reddish tinge on Daphne's face, "Hey! I was just kidding! I need a place to vent out my anger." He shouted out, rather unnaturally loud. The water receded and a couple of practice dummies started to be conjured out of nowhere.

Seeing the room respond to his words, a smile rose on Ares' face. _This is exciting! Dad always limited me to five dummies!_ "Daph? Can you do me a favor?"

Daphne replied "Sure."

"If I'm wounded or incapacitated, can you please take me to the Medi-witch or wizard, whoever is in charge?"

"Medi-witch. Her name is Madam Pomfrey, and yes I will, but why?"

"I am need to vent. But now that I think of it, I have a better idea." Ares took out his moleskin pouch and took out a miniature closet. Walking towards Daphne, he handed her the closet.

"There are medical potions inside. If I am injured, please just feed them to me. The vials are marked. I don't want to show myself as injured the first day around here."

Daphne nodded.

Ares stood up and walked towards the dummies. Upon reaching a certain distance from Daphne, he closed his eyes, a thought flitting through his head and the room granted his wish. A transparent shield formed between him and her, with him facing the dummies and her on the other side of the shield, still seated on the couch. The dummies multiplied in number and in seconds, all of them surrounding him dangerously.

"Ares?" Daphne asked in worry. "What are you doing?"

Ares smirked and twisted his wrist, his black and white wands held firmly in both hands. He twirled the wands in his fingers, as was his habit. A smirk on his face, he looked at the dummies and replied. "Enjoy the show!"

The dummies were moving and firing spells at him in quick succession. Blasting curses, piercing and cutting hexes, bludgeoners and bone breakers and crushers. Ares weaved through them, avoiding the most powerful curses just at the last possible moment. His hands, and by extension, his wands moved on instinct, as if they had developed an independent sentience of their own. Colors and bright lights consistently hurled out and radiated out of them. One moment, there would be a glow of silver; the other, it would vanish and several javelins and knives would fly all over the place. One moment, a large golden dome would be present, shielding Ares from the spells splashing against it. Another, there would be sounds of shields shattering and nasty looking purple spells hitting against one or more dummies, blasting chunks off of them.

Daphne was mesmerized. It was like a dance. A dance with Death. The spells he was using and fighting against looked and felt deadly, and Daphne was sure that most of them were at least borderline dark, if not more.

Daphne just stood speechless, her eyes filled with awe and fear. On one hand, she was shocked at the casual way her boyfriend was playing with deadly magicks; while on the other, a part of her was being highly _turned on_ by the dazzling display of sheer brilliance and power. She knew she was good, even better than most of the school. In Slytherin, there were very few who could fight to a standstill with her. But here, she knew that she would lose, hands-down, if he fought against her. Sure, she had had mock-duels with him before, but the humbling realization hit her. They were, indeed, _mock-duels._ This was a real duel.

Thirty long minutes had passed and the show was still on in all its extravagance, until a stray spell slipped past Ares' defenses and hit him on the leg. Unfortunately, for him, he was about flip when the spell hit him hard. The result was that his jump turned against him and he was banished to the wall, a great thud resounding through the Room.

"ARES!" Daphne wailed out, and cleared the room of dummies and the shield with one single thought. She rushed towards the unconscious form of Ares, picked up the battered body of her boyfriend. The last banishing charm, if it was a banishing charm, had hit him quite hard. Sending his two wands back in his wand-holster, Daphne levitated the wounded boy towards the couch and put him down gently. Opening the closet, she quickly summoned a blood-replenishing draught and an invigoration draught. She held her wand out on his wounded arm and leg and whispered "Episkey!"

The injured tissues began to heal themselves and she opened his mouth gently and poured the blood-replenishing draught. Ensuring the potions were swallowed, she pointed at wand at him and muttered "Ennervate!"

Ares woke up with a start. After three seconds of blurry vision, he looked Daphne and gave a roguish grin. "Took a bad one at the knee. The pain will stay for at least another hour." He took the invigoration draught from her hand and gulped it down. His energy returning shortly, he held his wand at the broken knee and whispered " _Ossis Dispersimus._ "

"What was that spell?" Daphne asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

"Oh that, it removed my shattered knee." Ares answered casually. Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say.

"WHAAAAT?"

Ares cringed at the explosive reaction. He dared to look up and convinced himself that he was simply staring at a fire-breathing dragon. After all, Daphne could not be so scary. Would not. Maybe…

"It removes the bones of my-" Ares tried to say but shut himself up as Daphne's glared intensified.

"You. Just. REMOVED. A. BONE. From. Your. KNEE?" Daphne asked coldly, punctuating her every word.

Ares gulped. "I have a lot of practice, doing that." Daphne looked more fearsome and he winced. _Me and my big mouth._

Incidentally, he shifted his knee, causing pain shot through his spine and he hissed. Her anger forgotten, Daphne's face shifted into an expression of concern as she sat down and held his knee.

"What do you need?"

"Skele-gro! Inside the closet!" Ares bit out the words through the pain.

Daphne summoned the said vial and handed it over to Ares, who swallowed the entire content of the vial in one gulp. A distasteful expression spread over his countenance.

"Always tastes nasty!"

"Serves you well." Daphne challenged. He did not counter back.

* * *

 **Headmaster's office.**

"That brat! I sent for him nearly an hour ago, and he is still not here!" Severus snapped.

"Did you send anyone for him?" Dumbledore asked. Severus nodded.

"Apparently said person must not have found Mr. Potter. So-" Dumbledore whipped his wand out, the beads on his slender wand visible to all.

Not for the first time, Severus wondered why the Headmaster's wand seemed so different. Even the dark lord's wand was ... quite normal to look at, despite the skull casing.

Giving a stabbing motion, Dumbledore uttered the words. "Expecto Patronum!"

An ethereal silvery phoenix swam out of the wand and circled the office before hovering in front of Dumbledore who spoke to the patronus. "Find Mr. Harry Potter. Tell him - Come to the Headmaster's office. Urgently." The patronus nodded at his words and departed through the walls.

Dumbledore put his wand back into his sleeve, leaning back on his plush chair. "Minerva," he smiled at the old Transfiguration teacher, "Do you wish to stay? I mean, Mr. Potter is of Slytherin House and-"

"The wounded belongs to my House and as such, I demand to stay!" came the blatant cold scoff.

"Very well."

Ares and Daphne had just come out of the Room of Requirement when a silvery Patronus flew out from somewhere. He saw the bird fly around him before choosing to hover in front of him.

"That's a phoenix Patronus." Daphne commented.

The phoenix opened its beak and the voice of the Headmaster reverberated out. "Come to the Headmaster's office. Urgently."

Cocking his head to the message, Ares spoke. "Let's go see what the Headmaster wants, now."

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: (22-12-2017)**

 **As one of our readers suggested, we are going with IAN SOMERHALDER for the role of Sirius Black. No offence Pine, but I suppose IAN is a better fit. Thanks for the suggestion, lojosmom.**

 **Now, a message to reviewers out there.**

 **First, all those who favorited and are following this story. We are not sorry about the rewrite. Yes, the fic went from twenty chapters to four. But no, it is not a simple rehash. The scope of the story has changed and we have written the chapters to match that. You will see the changes SOON.**

 **Now, for the reviewers who are complaining about the rewrite incessantly, please don't. We don't care. We are writing the story for ourselves and for people who appreciate the work being put in the story. We are putting in the time and work. Stop nagging.**

 **For those of you looking for an update schedule, I can't really promise one. I will say that we have a deadline to finish this fic, and finish it we shall. AS I SWEAR, SO MOTE IT BE.**


	6. Inheritance and Wands

**July 30, 1988.**

 **The Black Manor, Bulgaria.**

"Ares? Ares? Where are you?"

"Over here, Pad!" came the cheerful voice of his son. Sirius could never get tired of hearing his voice. It always brought a smile to his face and a pure sense of joy to his heart. It was perhaps, this reason above all that Sirius could not just remain angry with him for long, no matter what Ares did or how dangerous the task was.

Following the voice towards the kitchen, Sirius passed the corridor outside the study on the ground floor and the stairs leading to the servant's quarters below the manor. Entering the kitchen, Sirius glanced around, noticing the clean and pristine manner in which the kitchen was maintained and the absence of Ares. For a moment, he wondered if Kreacher would kick him out again if he made some hot chocolate for himself and Ares.

When Sirius had first arrived with Ares at the Ancestral manor of the Blacks in Bulgaria, the house was under a stasis spell. After deactivating the stasis runes that held the manor in limbo and realising there were no house elves around, Sirius had called for his now deceased mother's house elf, Kreacher, who had promptly responded to his summons, a sneer on his face and insults on his lips.

Kreacher had never liked since the days of his childhood and had never failed to make his displeasure known and parroted his mother's opinions of blood purity. After the death of his mother and Regulus had disappeared in service of the Dark Lord, Kreacher had spent all his time in Grimmauld place with the photo of Sirius and Regulus' mother, Walburga Black. The near isolation from the world and the constant company of her photo and slightly unhinged Kreacher's mind, giving him a nasty streak a mile wide and a hatred for any wizard/witch who wasn't a pureblood

Sirius had introduced Ares to Kreacher as the descendant of his aunt Dorea and the Heir Apparent of the House of Black, knowing Kreacher would be far more loyal to a member of the Blacks. From that point forward, Kreacher had taken over the duties of the manor and insults being thrown towards Sirius from time to time.

While the relationship between Sirius and Kreacher had never completely thawed, Kreacher had become less insulting over time and now merely repeated the insults as though they were of force of habit rather than any actual hatred.

Breaking out of his thoughts about the crazy house elf and knowing the elf would throw him out the kitchen for cooking by himself, never mind the fact that he was the Lord Black, Sirius glanced around once more and spotted the door that led to the balcony behind the manor, overlooking the kitchen garden. Kreacher was a fanatic for fresh herbs, ingredients and spices and had converted the gardens and greenhouses behind the manor into a veritable treasure trove of ingredients.

Walking out the door and stepping onto the balcony, Sirius' gaze travelled over the entire garden, taking the greenhouses on the far left and the rather large field of vegetables and spices spread over the area. Taking further steps towards the railing, Sirius glanced around to find Ares crouched in front of a large shrub, his back facing the balcony.

"What are you doing?"

"Talking to my friend." Ares's voice boomed up from the garden. He still faced the shrub.

 _Friend?_

Sirius jumped off from the balcony and landed nimbly on the garden soil. The Auror boots still served him as well as it all those years ago. There was a reason, after all, why Dragon-hide was so costly.

"Who is this friend of-" Spotting what appeared to be a snake, Sirius shouted "Ares move!" He drew his wand, a blasting curse in his lips.

Hearing his father shout, Ares was frightened and quickly rose from his position and moved aside, holding a snake tightly in his left hands.

Sirius paled at the sight. His nearly eight-year old son was holding a two-foot long adder in his hands.

"Ares! Leave the snake! It can hurt you!" He admonished, his wand pointed towards the snake, in case it turned on his son.

"But Pad, this is my friend." Ares complained, grumbling at the thought of leaving his friend.

"Your f... friend?" Sirius shivered at the thought.

"Yes." Ares replied excitedly, perking up at his father's question. "He tells me a lot about the surroundings, about how he-" but Sirius cut him off.

"You can speak to him?" He asked warily.

"Of course! Silly Pad…" Ares grumbled good-naturedly. Sirius sat down on the ground and let out a long-suffering sigh.

"I want to see you talking to him…" Trailing off, Sirius thought hard on the information he just received. "Tell him I won't attack him."

Ares turned towards the silver and black adder and repeated as his father instructed. What he did not realise was that his speech sounded as odd hissing to his father.

Sirius gave another sigh and looked up towards the heavens for possible directions and guidance. "You are a Parselmouth!" He finally uttered.

"No, I am not." Ares corrected his father hastily. "I am a Speaker. Scylla said so."

Sirius looked towards him as if he had just grown two heads. _Speaker?_ "And is this Speaker a person who can talk to snakes?"

"Of course, silly Pad!"

"Then a Parselmouth and a Speaker is the same thing!" Sirius pronounced.

The adder hissed something to Ares who hissed back in return. Looking back at his father, he replied. "Scylla says you are very intelligent." He grinned.

Sirius did not know whether to laugh or cry. Knowing how prejudiced Magical Britain was, he was worried about Ares's apparent ability and affability with snakes. While the rest of Europe did not hold any prejudice towards the ability, they were wary of it due to its link to the Dark Arts. But Sirius knew the day Ares displayed his ability in public was the day Britain would immediately link him to Slytherin and perhaps, Voldemort. _No!_ Giving himself a firm reprimand to stop worrying he wondered about his son's ability.

While the Black family did have a few parselmouths in its history, the potters had never shown such an ability. Blood-adopted he might be, but Ares was a Potter. And the ability had never manifested when Black family members were married outside the family. He would take Ares for an inheritance test tomorrow. It was his eighth birthday. What better time to test out his inheritance?

Looking back at his still ignorant son, Sirius asked. "Tell me Ares, you up for learning more about your ability as a Speaker?"

Ares's grin just turned wider and wider.

* * *

The next morning, Sirius, accompanied by his son Ares Black, apparated near the Bulgarian branch of Gringotts located on Planinski Rev boulevard in the city of Sliven, the largest city in Bulgaria.

Considered by many magical historians to be one of the oldest magical settlements in Europe, it was formed by the remnants of mages left after the romans had conquered what would later be known as Bulgaria in 46 AD. In order to better protect themselves and a certain measure of critical thinking, the mages established the community within the city and instituted paranoid level of security. These measures served to protect the community through the various battles and invasions that plagued Bulgaria through the years. After the Dark Arts Master Nerida Vulchanova established the Durmstrang institute in 1276 AD in the mountains of Norway, the Slivan community had grown to encompass most of the Wizarding population of the Balkans. The constant fighting between the muggles had intensified the security measures while the magical population had mandatory self-defence classes instituted to better protect themselves from rival magical nations and Dark Lords. By the time the security measures were relaxed under the authority of the Bulgarian Ministry for Magic in the 1800's, the nation had achieved a reputation for producing some of the most feared battle-mages of all time.

Planinski Rev, the magical boulevard of Sliven formed by highly stabilised space-expansion charms and wards, held a distinct militaristic appearance. While the shop still held color and charm and offered a variety of views to the public traversing the road, the designs reminded one of the battlements of fortresses built for war. Sharp edges and steep angles formed the majority of the architecture.

Sirius led Ares across the street through the crowd to the black granite edifice of Gringotts.

After the ICW had signed a peace treaty with the Goblins around the eighth century, the goblins had territory in the holdings of various nations. While the goblins were a primarily subterranean race, they used the land available to start the banking system that they agreed to maintained for the Wizards. The goblins had also wrung an extra concession that they would be the only official banking system for the ICW. Soon, their land holdings were transformed into massive edifices providing banking services, and more discrete services known only to a few nobles and ruling families of the magical world.

The pair entered the majestic building, only for Ares to come to a halt at seeing the interior of the bank for the first time. The bank held a similar configuration to the branch in London with the notable exception being the ceiling and the black granite walls. Unlike the other branch, this ceiling held a massive painting of goblin warriors facing a demon on a snow capped peak.

Tugging on Ares' arm with an unspoken command to follow him, the pair proceeded past the tellers and people towards the corridors behind the doors leading to the inner sanctum of the bank, guarded by goblin warriors.

After entering the corridor and closing the door behind themselves, Sirius and Ares began walking past several ornate, gilded doors that held plaques of both gobbledegook and Bulgarian indicating the family to which the Account Managers worked for. They passed several such doors and ornate paintings of goblin wars on the walls and proceeded to the office that held the Black Account Manager.

Halting in front of the office, Sirius passed a glance at Ares to behave respectfully. Ares nodded in the affirmative. Sirius opened the door to a similar configuration as Ripclaw's office in Britian, with the notable difference being the manager himself. This goblin had only eight fingers, two fingers missing on his left hand, a long gash from the right eyebrow to the left upper lip and a massive scar on the left side of his neck. The golbin smiled at the pair with his teeth visible; several teeth appeared broken in the right side of his mouth.

Seeing the goblin smile at them, Sirius, and Ares following his instruction, bowed to him, indicating respect.

The goblin gave a short, sharp nod and gestured to the chairs in front of him. "Lord Black. Heir Ares"

The pair of them occupied the chairs as Sirius returned the greeting. "Account Manager Bladenail."

The goblin stared them down with an appraising look before asking "What business do you have with Gringotts today, Lord Black?"

"I wish to perform an inheritance test for my son, Ares James Black."

"The test will cost you twelve hundred galleons" came the swift reply. Sirius nodded. Goblins were greedy creatures. The price quoted was enough for a normal working family to live for three years. Most people would never be able to spend such a sum on a single test which did not absolutely guarantee an inheritance.

"Please proceed, and take out the payment from my personal vault." replied Sirius.

Bladenail took out a piece of parchment from a drawer in his desk and placed it on the table. It was a light shade of blue with what appeared to be runic circles present on it. Then, he took out a ritual bowl, with similar runes, and dagger placed it in front of Sirius. The sides of the bowl where etched with Phoenician runes. Sirius had studied runes for his NEWTS but even he could not decipher most of them at first sight.

Bladenail gestured towards the bowl. "Please blood the dagger with your son's, and call for his family magic to arise."

Sirius looked at his son who had a curious expression on his face. "Ares, do ask Bladenail asked and pass the dagger to me. I should warn you that it might hurt."

Ares nodded at him, his expression a little scared at the thought of getting hurt, as he held the dagger in his left arm. Placing his right palm, he ran the dagger across it, wincing as a shot of pain shot up in his spine. He then handed the bloodied dagger to his father, who gingerly held it before dropping it into the bowl.

"Now, hold the palm over the bowl." Bladenail instructed, and Ares obeyed. He held his now injured palm, which hurt a lot, over the ritual bowl. The goblin began chanting obscure incantations with both of his hands over the bowl, looking rather scary as the runes and his eyes glowed with a mild light. However, Ares felt his father's hand on his shoulder, and felt his determination rise. As he continued to hold his bloodied palm steady over the ritual bowl while the goblin chant continued, magic manifested inside the bowl in a burst of crimson flames. It felt funny, but he could almost _feel_ his injury heal and soon, the pain disappeared.

"It is time." The goblin replied finally, stopping his chant.

Sirius nudged him, and Ares knew what to say.

Taking a deep breath and focusing on the crimson flames within the bowl, he uttered " _Familius Magicus!_ "

As soon as Ares finished the incantation, the crimson roared with power, the flames encompassing Ares's palm. The flames did not scorch him. Instead, they seemed to accumulated over his hand and flow across it like a river.

Sirius, and Ares watched the flames with a spellbound intensity while Bladenail frowned at feeling the magic around him. It almost seemed to devour _his magic_ but the magic left him as if he was… unwanted. Bladenail's frowned deepened at the thought.

Sirius felt the flames as he kept his gaze on Ares, watching for any signs of discomfort. As a few seconds passed by, Sirius felt a magic tugging at his core. He recoiled at the feeling, but before he could identify it, the magic disappeared leaving him feeling the way he did when his mother screamed at him and told him he was a disgrace to the House of Black. Sirius frowned at his thoughts, not realising Bladenail had a similar frown on his face.

The flames burned vivaciously on Ares' arm and, after a few seconds, launched a burst of flames towards the air above the parchment. At first, the burst appeared a to be a stormy-grey color, before changing into a bright gold and fell down on the parchment with a series of golden runes manifesting themselves on the parchment. The crimson flames flickered for a moment and this time, black flames burst out of it and fell down on the parchment, causing another set of black runes on the parchment. The third time, it was green, and green runes manifested themselves on the parchment. The crimson flames flickered, appearing angry for a moment, before they died out leaving a fresh palm without any wound.

Sirius and Ares stared at the palm held over the bowl for a moment too long before a polite cough drew their attention to the goblin. Ares blushed as he withdrew his palm at placed it on his lap.

"That was interesting!" Bladenail commented, not yet looking at the parchment as he stared at Ares.

"The three different rune sets?" Sirius asked, wondering which family magic Ares had awakened.

"No. The flame turning grey." Bladenail replied, causing an eyebrow to raise on Sirius and curiosity to light in Ares' eyes. "It seemed as if your son's blood contains another form of family magic within him, but for some reason, it was inhibited from expressing itself."

Sirius frowned at the words as wondered if there was something capable of hindering family magics from manifesting. He had never come across any spell or ritual that was capable of causing such, even in the infamous Black family library. "Something hindering it?"

Bladenail gave a throaty laugh. "You wizards!" The scorn in his tone was sharp. "Such magic cannot be suppressed. Especially family magic. If it is not showing itself, it means that your son, for reasons I do not know, was deemed as unworthy. Hence, the momentary flicker of grey."

"What family magic is symbolized by the grey flames?"

Bladenail looked sharply at him, a knowing smirk on his face, and answered. " _Peverell_." A strange emphasis on the name.

Sirius took in a sharp breath at the word. That name. James' puzzle. The Peverell family. For some reason, the word came back repeatedly into their lives.

Sirius had spent the years after leaving Britain searching for clues to James's puzzle and the Peverell family. While he spent time on deciphering the puzzle and making some progress with the "Tale of the Three Brothers" and stories found on the Elder Wand, all he found on the Peverell family were legends. Necromancers. Battle-mages. Monsters. Master craftsman. Many stories seemed to contradict each other while others were downright fabrications. The few bits and pieces that he found to be true were some obscure references to a battle whose actors were lost to history. The thought that he might never solve the puzzle had kept him up at nights. Now, he finds that Ares had Peverell family magic which had judged him to be unworthy. It made him want to bash his skull against the table.

"However," Bladenail continued, oblivious to Sirius's thoughts and feelings. "we do have _some_ interesting news over here." He smirked at the pair in amusement as he held out the parchment towards Sirius, whose eyebrows rose high enough to vanish behind his locks of hair as he started at the words on the parchment.

The parchment had undergone a change, the manifested runes translating themselves into three familial crests. Beneath the three crests were words in a beautiful lyrical script.

 **! The Noble and Ancient House of Potter!**

 **! The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black!**

 **! The Noble and Most Ancient House of Slytherin!**

Ares, as soon as he could spot the words, went into a state of shock. He knew his ancestry; Sirius had made it a point to explain to him about the Potter and Black family lineage alongside his mother's. Yet, in all those lessons, he had never once heard of any member of the Slytherin line marrying into the Potter and Black families. And seeing that he was the Inheritor of the Slytherin Lordship when Voldemort had proclaimed himself as 'The Heir of Slytherin' had brought shock to his face before morphing into grim amusement at the Dark wanker's reaction when he heard of this… _tragedy_. Ares nearly giggled at the thought.

"Slytherin?" Sirius was completely gob smacked. "My son is the _heir_ of Slytherin?"

"You seem surprised." Bladenail asked, amusement coloring his voice.

"I am." Sirius answered, his tone sounding more like a demand. "He was born a Potter. The Potters do not have any ties to Slytherin. Even we Blacks do not have any connections to the family. The only family to have any kind of connection to them were the Gaunts, but the family went extinct in the male line."

"What about his mother?" asked Bladenail.

'She was a muggleborn." Sirius replied offhandedly.

"You wizards, always close-minded. Muggleborns are nothing but descendants of squibs of ancient families-" Bladenail began, but was cut off by Sirius.

"I know that, but the Slytherin line went extinct over eight hundred years ago. So-" Sirius' words were cut off by Bladenail's next comment.

"The family magic of Slytherin is tied to The _green eyes_."

Sirius sharply looked at Ares who stared at his father, his emerald eyes shining brightly as usual. Bladenail continued, "Whenever the green eyes manifest themselves, the family magic arises. The Slytherin family magic is parasitic, usually feeding on other family magics to grow stronger, if the user was unable to provide the necessary magical power. That is the reason why the Slytherin Lords were _always_ the most powerful of their generation."

"You mean that unless my son becomes powerful in his own right, his Slytherin magic will feed upon his other family magics to make him powerful?"

Bladenail smirked. "Everything has a price, Lord Black. The Slytherin magic craves power. So, either your son has to be powerful _enough_ to sedate its hunger, or, he will slowly lose his other family magicks and be a Slytherin Lord only, albeit a rather powerful one."

Sirius let the humbling realization wash over him as his right arm moved to hold Ares' left. Ares gripped back just as hard at the words the goblin had spoken. "Who was the last Slytherin Lord?"

"I might be wrong, but in all probability, it must have been Shezar Slytherin, the son of Salazar Slytherin. He died almost eight hundred years ago, in a battle which obliterated the Slytherin lineage. Obviously, some descendant must have survived whose family squibbed out, which explains how his mother was a _muggleborn_ -" Bladenail sneered at the ignorant word used by wizards. "-and your son is now exhibiting the same green eyes."

"His mother also had those eyes, but while she was powerful, but nothing to suggest her Slytherin lineage." Sirius said, a measure of intensity in his voice.

"The Slytherin Magic is patrilineal. A female cannot reign or procure the family magic; only the males have that opportunity." Bladenail answered in response.

Sirius nodded and turned to look Ares, who was looking back at him with worry in his eyes. Sirius gave him a soft smile which lessened the worry in his son's eyes. Turning back to the Account Manager, he asked "Will Ares be able to enter the vaults?"

"The family Vault, No. The heirloom and trust vaults. Yes." Bladenail responded promptly.

"Trust vaults?" Sirius felt confused at the words. While he knew parents who were well-off would provide their children with trust vaults to teach them to manage their expenses, this was the first time he heard of a trust vault system being used over a thousand years ago.

"Now that your son has proved himself to be the Slytherin heir, he has the right to a trust Vault, as has been the clear rule specified by the Slytherin Family Charter."

Sirius inclined his head. "My son doesn't have need for the trust vault at the moment, but we would like an accounting of the Slytherin vaults and Properties. Also, I would like an accounting of the Potter vaults and investments so far."

"As you wish. Will be it all right if we send you the gathered information within the next seven days by owl?"

"That should be fine. Thank you. I would like to visit the heirloom vault along with my son."

"You cannot, only _your son_ can."

Sirius sighed, knowing his protests would be of no use. "Very well. Please proceed."

* * *

Every branch of Gringotts was interconnected with each other through a complex charm and enchantments applied to their banks and the subterranean tunnels. There were a total of nine branches in Magical Europe and all of them were magically synchronised and connected. Many witches and wizards who had witnessed the magic had tried to replicate it without success. When the ICW had tried to pressure the goblins to share their secrets, the goblins had threatened to revolt, temporarily shutting down the magical population's source of money. This had the ICW back down while the goblins resumed their banking services. Still, efforts continued around the world, trying to understand and replicate the system.

Sirius and Ares, accompanied by a goblin teller, travelled via cart all the way down into the deepest trenches beneath the ground. The cart drove past ancient vaults and the dragons guarding them; Ares had been gobsmacked at seeing an actual dragon guarding an underground vault. As the cart reached the deeper recessed of the network, it began to slow down before coming to a complete halt they arrived at their destination.

As the three left the cart, the teller led them to an ancient looking black door. It looked to be twice times as big as most vaults tended to be and the gleamed with a strange iridescent green glow. The door was adorned with a massive crest of a coiled basilisk on a solid green shield.

The Slytherin Family held three Vaults at the Bank; The Family vault, a Trust Vault and a Treasury and Heirloom vault, which apparently contained the heirlooms and artefacts belonging to the Family. Since Ares was still underage, he was restricted from accessing the Family Vault and Sirius had declared that he wasn't going to need a trust vault. So they had arrived at the destination needed for today.

The Treasury and Heirloom vault.

Father and son stood in front of the vault, with the goblin teller walking forward and pushing a set of keys into the absurdly complicated locks at the door. With a hiss, the locks opened, revealing a tiny pedestal, with an engraving on it, in the shape of a human palm.

"Press your palm on the pedestal, child." The goblin teller replied in a bored tone.

With a nod from Sirius, Ares walked up and _reluctantly_ put his palm on the rocky surface. As he felt something prick his palm, the pedestal glowed with ambient energies. Whatever had occurred seemed to be positive, since there was a louder hiss and the main door opened, revealing the contents of the vault to the trio.

There was a narrow entrance, allowing a single person to enter at a time. From the view outside, the vault – it looked more like a large chamber than a simple vault - seemed to be filled with aisles of parchment, packages and goblin armour on both stone and wooden furniture.

Ares stepped inside, feeling a rush of magic as he entered the vault. He turned back, hoping for his father to join him, but Sirius just stood where he was, nodding at him to move ahead. Ares nodded back hesitantly, before progressing towards the centre of the chamber.

In the centre of the chamber, surrounded by all the treasures was a pedestal, with a massive tome, bound in simple leather with the Slyhterin crest present on it. This must be the Slytherin Grimoire, Ares thought, remembering the lessons his father had taught him about magical families and Grimoires. The tomes, a collection of knowledge that had passed through the family for generations or the collective knowledge of a particular witch or wizard, were protected with Family magick, allowing none but those of the blood to peruse through its contents. It was in these grimoires that the theory behind the specific Family magick was present, along with several additions to the knowledge hoard that the previous Lords made for future generations.

Remembering his lessons on the protections surrounding such tomes, Ares felt fear at touching it. Turning to glance his father who sent him an encouraging smile, he turned back towards the tome. Taking a fortifying breath, he extended his hand towards the surface of the tome. The moment his palm touched the grimoire, he felt another jet of familiar energy pervade through his body. Almost instinctively, he picked up the tome, which felt surprisingly light despite its look. An emerald-green mist manifested all around him and wrapped around his magical core, entwining itself in a serpentine fashion, as Ares's eyes glowed with a mysterious eldritch green.

* * *

 **Two days later, at Black Manor.**

"Ares? What's wrong?"

Ares safely ignored his father's eyes. There was no way he could lie and look into his father's eyes at the same time. He gently picked up Scylla and caressed her. "What do you mean, Pad?"

They were currently in the garden behind the kitchen. Ares had taken to spending time with the adder who recognised him as a friend and his father had found him after the day's parchment work was complete.

"You have changed. Ever since we visited the Slytherin Vault, you are… silent. What's bugging you, son?" Sirius asked, his voice low and tinged his worry.

Ares frowned as he stared at his father. He knew Pad was right. He _was_ brooding since their visit to Gringotts and his lineage was revealed. But he just didn't want to worry his father by telling him. Now, he knew he couldn't get away with a lie or an evasion. Mentally sighing, he gave in. "I was… thinking about what the goblin said." He paused for a moment. "About my Slytherin magic and stuff, you know."

Sirius's jaws clenched at the answer. Ever since their visit, his son had spent time brooding around the house. He too was worried about the truth they heard. "What about it?"

"Is it… you know, is it going to eat all my magic? Will I also become like… like Voldemort?" Ares asked, fear sounding through his voice.

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "What brought that on?" While he wanted to hug Ares and tell him not to worry, he knew this issue addressed before it got out of hand.

Ares looked at him defiantly. "I read, you know. I read all about the Dark War after finishing Mum's journal. Voldemort was almost like a half-man, half-snake at the end. Will I also… you know…" The fear of turning into the Dark Lord was clearly visible on his face.

Giving in to his urge, Sirius knelt down and hugged his son hard. "Understand this, Ares. You will _never_ become anything like that… that man. Besides, having Slytherin magic doesn't mean that you will-"

Sirius stopped his argument midway as it hit him. While he knew Ares was worried about the Slytherin family magick, he was also taught about the ignorance regarding Light and Dark magic and how intent could change the properties of a spell and differentiate between good and evil mages. But for some reason, Ares felt this fear with far too much belief that he would turn into a Dark Lord. Drawing back from his son, he asked "Ares, tell me what happened. Is something wrong?"

Ares looked away. And Sirius realised his suspicions were true. Something was driving this fear.

"Ares..." Sirius repeated sternly.

No answer. Ares remained quiet

"Ares, tell me what's wrong."

Slowly, the eight-year-old matched eyes with his father as bright emerald eyes locked with steel-gray. "Ever since I have, you know… held the Slytherin grimoire in my hands… I can… I can do this." He held out his hands, as his eyes glowed, and a greenish hue materialised all around him before condensing into a serpentine shape as it entwined all around his arms.

The sight took Sirius's breath away. "Is that the-"

"Slytherin magic, I think. I could, you know, feel my magical core today while I meditated in the balcony. And this… thing, it was encircling all around it."

"It is feeding upon your magic." Sirius realized with horror, standing up and stepping back subconsciously - a reaction that didn't do anything to help Ares's growing fear.

"Pad! What does this mean for us, now?" Ares asked, his fear multiplying at the expression on his father's face.

Sirius just stood, transfixed in horror.

"Pad?" There was genuine fear in Ares's voice.

"It means that I was wrong." Sirius finally spoke, grief and anger coloring his voice. "It means that you will never be able to have the ordinary and fun-filled life that I wanted you to have."

He hugged his son who hugged him back tightly, trying to hold back the tears threatening to fall. "However, we are marauders, right son? We take what we deserve, and if not, we snatch it. This... Slytherin family magic, it is powerful and parasitic. If you do not increase your magical powers, it will someday take over your family magics from you. And I won't let that happen."

Ares felt dreadful. "What will we do, Pad?"

"We train, son." Sirius said with complete certainty. He knew this was the only way to prevent what would happen. While he hated to let Ares's childhood be filled with training and learning dangerous magic, he also didn't want his son to lose the legacy of his families. "Specifically, you train. I will traverse heaven and earth if I have to, but you will get your training and grow up to become the powerful wizard you are born to be. We will make you so skilled and powerful that your Slytherin magick will become stable in itself. You are my heir, and I will be damned if _Slytherin_ takes away from you your heritage and your family magick. I will not let that happen!"

Ares looked up at his father. He knew that the matter was extremely serious for his father to be so stern. He had never seen him like this before. It was as if his Pad was possessed with some ruthless determination to make something happen.

Ares nodded and hugged his father. His Pad, he reminded himself. His dad and mum were all fine and loved him, but his Pad was the best father ever.

* * *

The next day, father and son found themselves in the magical town of Vratsa, walking through the main street. Vratsa was located on the eastern edge of Bulgaria bordering the Black Sea. The town, due to its vast community and one particular resident, was a regularly chosen portal to the Durmstrang Institute. Unlike Hogwarts, Durmstrang was based on a mobile platform that held the school. Due to its nature and the paranoid security measures implemented by the Founder, Nerida Vulchanova, and subsequent headmasters and headmistresses, the school moved from place to place every few years. This year, it was somewhere near Scandinavia. Originally, the Institute was near Vratsa but the terrorist attacks executed by the illusive organization known as the _Black Death_ had forced the Institute to move for its safety. The Bulgarian Ministry was actively working against these forces, but the situation was far from acceptable. Despite all the turmoil, as far as Vratsa was concerned, the shifting of Durmstrang meant less customers, and thus the streets were far more silent than they usually would be.

Sirius Black and his son Ares walked down the main lane that led to the particular reason the town was a regular portal to the Institute for the past few decades. The pair approached the shop of one of Magical Europe's most venerated wandcrafters - Mykew Gregorovitch, a contemporary and competitor of Garrick Ollivander, who was the premier wand maker of magical Britain. However, unlike Ollivander, Mykew Gregorovitch was known to _craft_ customised wands for those who could afford it.

While wand crafting was the preferred choice in several parts of Magical Europe, it was frowned upon in Magical Britain, since the process used to craft a wand personalised it to the user, severely inhibiting the ability of the Trace used by the British Ministry of Magic. However, the Bulgarian Ministry regulated use of underage magic by a different set of protocols and thus, had no issues with wandcrafting as an occupation.

Passing the edge of town and turning towards a small hillock in the distance, father and son stopped before the rather large shop in front of them. The store looked to be very old with the name "Gregorovitch" carved on a wodden plaque hung next to the door and a couple of wands placed inside the glass display next to the door. Entering inside, Ares could instantly feel the change in the air around him, which seemed saturated with the ambient magic of the area. Must be the wands, he decided, before he squashed away the tiny bit of discomfort he had been feeling, and fell into steps with his father.

The interior of the store was extremely Spartan. There were a couple of chairs on the left and right walls, presumably for customers while a counter with writing tools and vials with a single chair stood in front of the wall opposite the entrance. A door to the left of the counter was closed while a corridor on the right appeared to lead to a well-lit room.

The single chair in the room was occupied by an old man hunched over the counter, writing on a piece of parchment. As Sirius and Ares neared him, he looked up and Ares was startled at the eyes looking at him. At first glance, they appeared to be the same. But as he examined them closely, he found them to a light forest green with ocean blue flecks.

"Ah, new customers." The old man seated behind the counter remarked with a gleeful expression before his old eyes recognized the elder of the two standing on the other side of the counter.

"Lord Black." He whispered, his accent deepening his voice, making it harder for Ares to distinguish the words. "—it has been a long time."

"So it has." Sirius nodded. He had come to Gregorovitch six years ago, when he had wanted to acquire a customized wand. Not that he had any issues with his own, but the benefits of using a custom-made wand were too good to be ignored. Considering the state of affairs in the country, it was always beneficial to acquire every single asset he could get his hands on - after all, nothing was more important than his son's protection.

"I wish to acquire a wand for my son, Ares." Sirius gestured towards his son.

The wandcrafter raised his eyebrows as he pushed his old bones up, trying to extend his neck as much as humanly possible without standing up, trying to see the little boy standing next to the formidable man he knew as the Lord Black. Failing dismally, he muttered a soft expletive under his breath as he stood up. "You know there are rumours coming from your home in Britain. I wonder if there is some shred of truth in them."

"There is a time for rumours, Mykew." Sirius retorted stiffly, "But _now_ is not one of those times. My son, Ares James Black, needs a custom-made wand."

The old man preened towards the little boy. "Forgive me, Lord Black, but is he… well, of age yet?"

"He is not, but I was sure I could persuade you to craft something for him." Sirius countered.

"I would…" Gregorovitch replied, "But as you know, selling an underage a custom-made wand… especially under the present state of affairs… I am sure someone of your stature can understand."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. It seemed Gregorovitch was out to fish at the opportunity. "Of course I do, but unfortunately, both me and my son are in a hurry. We need to visit one of our properties at the Balkans, and although the wandcrafter there is quite... famous, we wanted to get Ares his first wand from you. I am sure someone of your stature can understand."

Gregorovitch flashed a sour look for a moment, completely missing the surprised look that the boy gave his father about the announcement regarding the visit to the Balkans, as he forced himself to smile. "Yes, of course, but I think I could make an exception for young… Ares, was it?" He looked sweetly at the little boy for a moment before his eyes caught the boy's right hand.

"He has had the inheritance ritual? Already?" Gregorovitch could see the Heir ring worn by Ares.

That was… rare. Usually, heirs of ancient families were taken to perform the ritual after their magic matured for the first time, which was usually at ten years of age. There was a reason after all, that magical schools began educating the young witches and wizards one they turned eleven. After their first maturity, the cores were stabilised enough to officially cast standard spells and provided them the opportunity to begin controlling their power.

"Ares is… special." Sirius returned, wondering if the wandcrafter could detect anything from his voice.

Gregorovitch glanced back at Sirius, a sharp, intelligent look in his eyes. "You do understand that for custom wands, the wizard in question should be able to feel his core."

Sirius nodded. "He has been able to feel his core for a… while."

Gregorovitch's left eye twitched at the evasive nature of his customer. "Very well," He nodded at Ares, "please follow me."

* * *

The old wandcrafter walked through the open corridor of his shop while Ares and Sirius followed him swiftly behind. Arriving at the well-lit room which contained a door on the left wall leading to an unknown part of the shop, a table with measuring implements, some parchment and a letter-pad, a dagger, a few wood pieces, some devices of unknown purpose and a couple of vials along with a couple of shelves of boxes filled with wands, the wandcrafter took a tiny vial from the table and presented it to the boy in front of him. "I will need three drops of your blood for this."

Ares glanced at his father for a moment, who nodded back, before he looked up at the old man and nodded. Gregorovitch took his wand out and placed it on Ares's extended thumb, as a tiny incision appeared on the surface. Ivan neatly collected three drops before he applied a healing charm, the incision had vanishing completely in a matter of seconds. Gregorovitch waved his wand towards some of the devices on the table next to him. A measuring tape jumped to life and before Ares could do anything, it was already measuring his arm length, his height and, strangely, the length of his nose. Once it was apparently satisfied, the tape flew back to the table as scribbles formed on the letter-pad just next to the tape. Gregorovitch put away his wand and snatched the pad from the table, before turning to his customers.

"This part, you cannot watch." Gregorovitch replied solemnly. "Please wait outside near the counter. I will be right back." He cast a final look at the boy in front of him before spinning around and walking away furiously, leaving a confused Ares Black behind, alone with his father. A door leading to some room known only to the wandcrafter shut behind him.

After an approximate duration of forty minutes, a sudden noise inside the wand shop attracted the pair's attention towards the corridor, finding the odd wandcrafter returning back to the counter, holding a thin, long rectangular brown box in his hands.

Sirius and Ares got up from their seats on the right wall and approached the wandcrafter who sat down in his chair. He looked to be tired but had a proud smile on his face.

"I took my time." The wandcrafter confessed to his customers. "I would never rush the process of wand creation, especially one such as this one." The old man placed the tiny, long box carefully over the counter and opened it. Inside, enclosed within a layer of purple silk cloth, was a thick, cylindrical piece of white wood with pores along the length of it, with the hilt fitted with an ivory casing.

Gregorovitch reverentially held the wand with both hands and presented it to Ares hilt-first. Ares felt his right hand move to grab it, almost as if it had a life of its own. The moment he did plucked the wand from Gregorovitch's hands, a wave of magic forced its way through the wood pores as the objects and air in the room began to vibrate. However, the wave of magic had disappeared just as quickly as its appeared.

"Wonderful!" The old wandcrafter clapped his hands gleefully, his eyes lit with childish joy. "A perfect match. I admit I had my doubts, but this settles it. You hold a very powerful wand in your hand, Mister Black."

"What does it contain?" Sirius dropped in, unable to hold back his curiosity at the reaction of the wand. While he knew of and had seen reactions of a wand pairing with its owner, this was the first time he had ever felt a reaction where the very air was saturated with magic and a strange feeling of foreboding.

"Heartstring of an ice-dragon." Gregorovitch answered, smiling at the surprise on Sirius' face and the joy and curiosity of Ares. "Yes, they do exist and it is extremely rare for any parts of it to be found on the market. I was most fortunate to have a single heartstring left behind as a family legacy from my great-grandfather. The wood is cut from a bowtruckle-infested Deathwood tree, hence the white color and the pores. A very queer, but powerful combination." His eyes turned to Ares. "Dragon heartstrings are cores known for their power, with a rather good affinity at binding to wand quality wood. Deathwood is an unusual choice since it is almost… inert against most magical substances, making it very hard to work with in any crafting process. However, your blood seemed to help the process considerably."

He paused for a moment.

"Despite the combination, or perhaps, because of it, the wand seems to ooze magical energy. Thus the ivory casing enveloping the wand. The ivory is made from the teeth of a Grim-" Ares and Sirius glanced at each other "-and it seemed to do a perfectly fine job of balancing the innate energy of the wand. However, the wand seems to be perfect for one specific job."

His eyes flickered to Ares. "To cause destruction."

"Excuse me?" Sirius countered, feeling his throat go dry. Ares cocked his head in thought at the wandcrafter's words.

"Forgive my poor choice of words," The wandcrafter back-pedalled seeing the reactions of his customers. "What I mean is, the core-wood composition yields maximum results only when used for offensive magics. It is a great weapon for battle, but a poor tool for constructive magic…an example for which could be transfiguration."

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "Couldn't you… make something that could… help him in learning constructive magic?"

Gregorovitch narrowed his eyes at Sirius and spoke with a hint of steel. "Pardon me, Lord Black, but it is not a question of _will not_ but of _cannot._ Besides, the Blacks are famed for their affinity for destructive magic anyway. Surely, it is a familial thing."

Sirius weighed his options. Considering Gregorovitch's reputation for discretion, he sighed as he whipped his wand out and cast a couple of privacy charms all around them. Paranoid, but best not to let anyone in the vicinity know of anything they should not hear. "Ares is… well, when he was born, he had a different name."

"Harry Potter." Gregorovitch answered, much to Sirius's surprise which quickly morphed into a hardened expression. "Even for wandcrafters, the _Boy-who-lived_ is a fascinating subject."

"Yes." Sirius replied, trying to keep a calm demeanour, and NOT cast an obliviation at the wandcrafter. "His dad had an affinity for transfiguration and his mother was a natural at charms. I am sure you understand my… concern finding that _Harry Potter_ holds an _inferior_ wand when it comes to those magics."

"Mister Black," Gregorovitch's voice shifted to a slightly stern tone, his voice hardening at Sirius' words. "It is imperative that you understand that a child is, _not necessarily,_ the sum of their parents. It is quite natural for someone like… Ares to hold affinities towards a branch of magic entirely different from that of his birth-parents."

"I do not disagree with your-" Sirius began, but Gregorovitch cut him off.

"However, I do understand your worries about young Ares, and that brings me to my next point. His blood," Gregorovitch replied, nodding his head towards Ares, "is highly tuned towards dragon heartstrings, cores famous for their power. Contradictorily, it matched with none of the woods in my collection except the Deathwood, a wood infamous for its near magically inert properties. As unfortunate as it is, I cannot be of any help."

Sirius sighed. It was worth a try. A thought rose in his mind, as he looked up with a bright smile towards the wandcrafter. "My son needs to learn magic due to…various concerns. And I'm not sure if I want his magic tracked by the Bulgarian Ministry. I was thinking if you could help me in that respect…"

Gregorovitch's eyes widened as a grin formed on his wizened face.

* * *

Mykew Gregorovitch had not been not joking about the wand's prowess. It was a devastating tool when it came to offensive magics. Sirius had written down a list of basic elemental curses, jinxes and hexes for Ares to learn. And the eight-year-old had cast each and every one of them successfully. The wand reacting on instinct to his son's command, as though it was tune with his very core and mind. However, when it came to transfiguring a simple matchstick into a needle, Ares had failed in his first eight attempts before he succeeded in his task. It was exhilarating, and disappointing at the same time. The wand was near useless when it came to standard, constructive magic, just like the wandcrafter had mentioned. It left Sirius wondering if he had taken the wrong decision by choosing to get a custom-made wand over a standard one. But before he could reach any conclusion, his grandfather's words rose in his mind…

 _The opposite of courage is not fear, but conformity. Even a dead fish can go with the flow._

The words had simplified his choice. He could either allow Ares to use a standard, _inferior_ wand for the rest of his life, or give him the best weapon suited to him and let him think his way out of the difficulties. Days and weeks passed by, and Ares had successfully cast curses that even third-year Hogwarts students would have struggled with. Sirius couldn't explain it to himself, but there was something about his son's ability with magic. The boy wasn't always able to pick up the spell on the first try. But when he did, it was almost as if he was casting the spell for over a decade. It drove him nuts. The boy could cast offensive spells consistently with skill on par with hit wizards or Battle-mages, but struggled to cast a basic healing charm.

After a tedious three months of desperate attempts, Sirius was out of his wits. Ares had, miraculously, progressed to Hexes that would have put a fourth-year to shame, but he wasn't able to keep up with the basic transfiguration spells that Mcgonagall usually taught during the initial months of the first-year at Hogwarts. It was potentially worrisome. While Ares held a good offence, _Transfiguration_ was the best way for a wizard to learn control over his core and magic distribution while also improving their ability to control the amount of power distributed to a spell. He refused to believe that Ares lacked skill, and thus blamed the wand for his son's struggles. He still smiled at his son, but wasn't so foolish as to miss the painful, mirthless smile his son would send him when trying to cast a transfiguration spell.

"What do I do, James? I am trying to do my best to keep the promise I gave you, but Ares is still having problems." Sirius laughed mirthlessly. "It's ironic, you know. Back then, we had bet that your son would be a natural at Transfiguration, and I had voted on Defence. And now look at him." He cast a glance at a very irritated Ares Black whipping his wand over a pillow, trying to transfigure it into a pincushion, but failing dismally. "He reminds me so much of you, you know James… though he has Lily's stubbornness in him. I was almost sure that his wand would be just like yours-"

His throat constricted and his eyes widened as a thought entered his mind. "Of course, _of course_!" He cried out gleefully, before racing into the manor, ignoring the surprised reaction from his son who was left behind in the garden, wondering what had happened.

Sirius raced down the main hallway, up the stairs and went straight to his room. Activating a hidden room on the left wall, he opened the door, went in and came out dragging a trunk out with him. He had nearly forgotten that he had placed James' wand inside the trunk. Rummaging through the contents, he finally found the old mahogany wand enclosed in a red silk shroud. Lifting it up, he closed the trunk and raced out, crying for Ares as loud as he could.

"Pad! Pad, what's wrong?" Ares questioned, panting as he stood in the hallway below the stairs. He had heard his father's shouts and ran towards the source as fast as humanly possible. Seeing his father stand in front of him, panting and holding a… different wand in hand, he scrunched his face. "What's with the wand?"

"This is…" Sirius panted, " _This_ is your dad's wand, Ares."

"Take a breath, Pad." Ares ushered.

Sirius grinned but continued nevertheless. "This is your dad's wand. Dragon heartstring and mahogany. I want you to try it."

Ares looked positively gleeful at that. He snatched the wand from Sirius and held it in his left hand, since his white wand was still in his right hand. A wave of magical power permeated through him as he held the mahogany wand. It was different when compared to his own wand, unlike his own wand which was cold and forbidding, this one had a more… comforting and warm touch, almost like an evening breeze or the warm feeling of the sun on his face.

"Can I- Did it-?" Ares asked, half-unsure of what happened, and half-dreading that it might mean nothing at all.

"Cast with it." Sirius replied with a smile, praying to any gods up there that the wand would work. He waved his own wand, summoning a pillow from the living room to his hand.

Ares nodded at his father and swished the mahogany wand towards the pillow before flicking it at a forty-five-degree angle, picturing the pincushion in his mind as he intoned. _"_ Mutatio _."_

He opened his eyes, realising that he had closed them while he cast the spell. To his absolute delight, there in his father's hand, was a pink pincushion instead of the fluffy cotton pillow. His sight moved further upwards as he witnessed the tears of happiness roll down his father's cheek.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: (22-12-2017) Quick update schedule, eh.. Don't worry about it. It slows down and speeds up at our whim. But, as my fellow author says, we will finish the fic soon. We do have a nice deadline this time.**

 **Now, for the new addition to our acting roster.**

 **MYKEW GREGOROVITCH -** **RADE ŠERBEDŽIJA**

 **Skadarken: We had no arguments there. Especially since we may or may not use him later.**

 **Please, don't believe my unimaginative author. I always have plans for our characters. I just… don't know them yet.**

 **Skadarken: Right… Says the guy with a hundred changes a minute. Don't worry, people. I'm keeping him in line. At least, I think I am. Hopefully.**

 **Ah… Fine. Here's some of the plan for the fic. Dumbledore shall begin distributing information like candy. Voldemort shall begin firing cheering charms as punishment. And Bellatrix shall hug my fellow au-**

 ***BANG***

 **Skadarken: *Ejects the spent shell from the barrel* Those were some disturbing images. Especially the last. *Shudders in fear* I hope you're not mentally scarred people. Enjoy the upcoming chapters.**


	7. Day One at Snake Pit (Part 2)

**The Headmaster's office**

Escorting Daphne to the library and kissing her on the cheek, much to her embarrassment, Ares followed her directions to the Headmaster's office. Taking her advice and asking the portraits for directions when he missed a few corridors, he slowly trekked his way up the stairs towards the Headmaster's Tower which contained the office and other administrative rooms.

As he walked through the ancient corridors of Hogwarts, Ares wondered if he should have even bothered showing up here because of a law passed by a bunch of morons who wouldn't know which end of the wand to hold.

While King's Cross station was nice, it was not marvellous, compared to the sights he had seen. The Castle of Vlad Dracul III. Imhotep's Maze of Shadows. And the dozens of wonders he had seen all over the world.

And the people of Britain were even worse than the Magisterium of China. While the Magisterium held an iron grip on its subjects, it allowed, and even encouraged, research on various branches of magic. On the other hand, Britain was stagnating at the technology level of the late 1700's; and had a nasty streak of declaring unknown magic as _Dark magic_.

While he had agreed to Sirius and Daphne's request to study here, Ares knew the school had nearly nothing to offer him. The seventh year material was several levels below the ICW standard and, based on the opinions of former students, magical research was actively discouraged.

Ares groaned at his thoughts as he walked up the stairs leading to the Tower, wondering how many obstacles the universe wished to throw in his path. At least, he had established a certain… _reputation_ with the population of Hogwarts when he had neutered Malfoy and effectively demonstrated his power over the gryffindor's pitiful efforts to intimidate him.

As he took the last turn that led to the office, Ares wondered if Dumbledore would try and accuse him of attempted mur- No. That wasn't his style. According to Sirius, the old man would rather forgive transgressions than allow people to be punished, no matter how vile they were. Ares wondered, not for the first time, how Voldemort had not won the war against an ineffective ministry and a _secret order_ that stunned perpetrators rather than killing them.

Finally arriving at the gargoyle statue that stood guard at the entrance to the Headmaster's office, Ares shook himself out of his thoughts. Looking at the statue, he wondered if students could actually approach the Headmaster with a problem when his office was locked behind a password that was known only to a select few. Daphne had bluntly informed him that she did not know the password. Mentally sighing, he went through a list of possible actions. Deciding that a straightforward approach would work, he looked straight at the statue and said "The headmaster has asked me to see him. Can you just let me pass?"

The gargoyle uttered a guttural groan and said "Feel Free." The statue moved aside as a set of stairs wound around it towards the ceiling. Ares stepped onto them as they were moving and found himself standing in front of a normal looking wooden door. _Sometimes, I wish magical travel wasn't so disorienting._

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Ares moved forward and stretched his right hand towards the door but a voice, old and full of knowledge, was heard through the door. "Come in, Harry."

Halting his actions, Ares stood outside the door, not willing to let the wily old man win. After a moment of silence, there was the sound of a sigh and the voice spoke again. "Come in, Mr. Black." A smirk floated on his lips as he walked into the office.

* * *

The office was of a half-circle design with stairs leading to the Headmaster's private quarters on the far end, opposite the door. The walls on the left and right was covered with several bookshelves filled with tomes, both new and ancient. A large window on the right overlooked the Black lake and mountains to the east. Several tables around the room held odd-looking artefacts of unknown make and function. A desk filled with parchment, quills, ink and other paraphernalia was located below the stairs. A perch on the desk was occupied by a large bird of red and gold with shining black eyes. A chair was placed a few feet away, facing the desk.

"Come in, Mr. Black and please have a seat." Dumbledore called out from his chair behind the desk. The Headmaaster wore a rather gaudy set of robes in pink. Ares was almost surprised to see the greasy-haired professor and Professor McGonagall standing beside the desk and facing him. Both the professors wore their uniform robes, Snape in black and McGonagall in green.

Seeing the two of them present beside the Headmaster, Ares realised that this was an enquiry regarding the incident in the Great Hall during breakfast, he relaxed his stance. He had entered the room, ready to face Dumbledore, and Dumbledore alone as he and Sirius knew that the old man would call Ares to his office to try and obtain as much information as possible.

Knowing the field had changed, Ares steeled himself and checked his Occlumency shields. While he was no expert at the mind arts, he wasn't an amateur either. Years of training had brought him to the level of a decent Fourth-level Occlumens, although his Legilimency was sub-par compared to his proficiency at defence. While a Fourth-level Occlumens at fifteen was no minor feat, it could not be compared to Masters of the mind arts, as Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort were rumoured to be. Albus Dumbledore was a seventh-level Occlumens and a Master Legilimens himself. Not that Albus Dumbledore would attack him right there… Legilimency was heavily frowned upon and application of such on a minor, without a guardian's consent, was grounds for a fine and a stay in Azkaban.

Ares walked up to the Headmaster's table and wished both him and the professors politely. McGonagall gave him a nod, while Snape produced an irritable jerk, as if he was forced to contend with a particularly troublesome enemy. To Ares' complete lack of surprise, Dumbledore displayed mannerisms similar to nobles.

Gesturing towards the chair, Dumbledore said "Please have a seat, Mr. Black."

 _I wonder if his dotty-old-man facade is a psychological technique to throw his opponents off!_ Acknowledging the request as the order it was, Ares took his seat and stared at the Headmaster in his twinkling blue eyes.

His palms crossed, Dumbledore stared at him with a sharp look, and asked "You have been called here so that we can understand the cause of your unruly behaviour in the Great Hall this morning."

"Unruly behaviour? Surely _you exaggerate_ , Headmaster." Ares gave off an innocent look, a look he had perfected years ago. A benefit of living with a Marauder.

"Mr. Black, did you not morph into a lion and bodily pounce on Mr. Ron Weasley this morning, breaking his arms in the process?" Professor McGonagall asked, disapproval and anger radiating from her voice.

"Oh that?" Ares replied, imitating an expression of sudden enlightenment dawning on him. "Why yes, of course, I did. After all, one should uphold the Pureblood customs. Did I do something wrong?" He mock frowned in confusion.

Severus Snape sneered at Ares. "I shouldn't have expected anything else from a Potter." He snapped towards Ares. "You think you can fool around when you have committed a crime?"

Ares turned towards the professor, a confused look on his face. _No wonder Pad said to watch him. He's a really bitter man._ "Professor, I do not understand. Mr. Weasley insulted my family and me in public. Since it was his first offence against me, I let it pass. But, he continued to insult and belittle my family and my friends, for which I threatened him to back off or face the consequences."

"Your classmates have stated differently. They informed us that after comparing yourself with the Dark Lord-" Professor McGonagall began sternly, the anger palpable in her voice. "You morphed into a lion – I have yet to confirm if you hold an Animagus license from the Ministry - and then you attacked Mr. Weasley, breaking the bones in both his arms."

Ares looked at her, nearly surprised by her almost... _hostile_ behaviour. On second thought, had he not expected this to happen? He had deliberately attacked in the manner he did to cause as much excitement and chaos at Hogwarts. Weasley was just the first casualty of his plan.

 _Wonder how she would react if I filled with her house dorm with snakes._ "Very well. If that is to be regarded a crime, fine. I will, of course, subject myself to any kind of punishment you deem necessary, including publicly apologizing to Weasley for my... unruly behaviour." Ares replied finally, observing how Dumbledore's face had brightened into a smile.

"But," The Headmaster's smile drooped into a frown at Ares' words. "As soon as I complete said punishment, I will be reporting the matter to the DMLE and log the issue with the Wizengamot."

"The… issue?" the Headmaster pressed, wondering where the young boy was going with this.

"Why, a feud against his family of course." Ares rattled away, ignoring the looks of shock from the trio. "I cannot let him belittle and insult my family and let him away without repercussions. I will lodge a complaint against Mister Weasley for slander against the Noble and Ancient Houses of Potter and Black."

Dumbledore frowned. He had expected the boy to realise his guilt and apologise, an action that would allow him to improve his acquaintance with the child. But it seemed Sirius Black had trained him well in the ways of the Noble Houses. It was true that if Ares Black pressed a case against Ronald for slander, things could become extremely difficult for the Weasley family - the family was one of his most vocal supporters. Maybe a different tact could be used in this situation…?

"Mister Black," he began, "do you truly not realise the degree of your fault in this matter? You intentionally attacked a fellow student and caused grievous harm to him. I am quite sure that James and Lily would not have-"

"James and Lily Potter-" Ares responded, his voice cold as a blizzard. "-are dead. No thanks to you, Headmaster. After all, it was your grand idea to make them choose a Fidelius-based _cottage_ over the protections of Potter Manor. Whether my parents would have approved or not is of no consequence - considering they are dead. And the Dead do not matter."

He could feel the two professors hanging to his every word. Snape's expression had turned from anger to confusion at a moment's notice, although the man hid it quickly. McGonagall went through several emotions ranging from surprise and shock to anger and grief.

"Mister Weasley slandered my Houses, and, by extension, my parents. I ignored the first time, warned him for the second offence and punished him for his third offence. If that is not acceptable to you, you are free to inform the DMLE and I will be glad to give an official statement." Ares finished in the same cold tone.

"It seems you resent your parents for dying, Mister Black." Dumbledore returned slyly.

Ares's teeth clenched at the man's attempt to use the death of his parents. His voice dropped a few degrees below freezing. "Whether I love or hate them is immaterial, Headmaster. What matters is that they did not take precautions and just jumped ahead at your word and command back then, resulting in their deaths. I _do resent_ the _Gryffindorish_ behaviour on their part."

"Is it so bad to be a Gryffindor, Mr. Black?" Mcgonagall asked briskly, though Ares could hear a trace of disappointment in her voice.

"Not at all, professor. Both my parents were Gryffindors. My father is a Gryffindor and they all spoke highly of _you_ ; My parents' in their diaries and my father- well he still amuses me with stories of your detentions." A ghost of a smile formed on his lips. "That said, it was their Gryffindorish proclivities that led to their demise, and it was the Slytherin values of cunningness and subtlety that helped my father raise me into who I am today. So, please do not take any offence if I prefer being a Slytherin."

 _For I am one, after all._

Turning to face the Headmaster, Ares continued. "So what will be my punishment, professor?"

The Headmaster nodded his head like an elephant waving his head to shake off flies. "It is all right, Mr. Black. We merely presumed that your actions were out of order and hence, this meeting was convened to discuss the issue. There is no need for punishment, just as there is no need for a DMLE complaint. Please, return to your classes."

Inwardly smirking at the man's attempt to save his supporters, Ares stood up. "Thank you Headmaster." He replied briskly, before turning back and walking through the entrance. Minerva nodded towards the Headmaster before she too, took her leave, leaving Dumbledore and Snape behind.

"He is not what I expected!" Dumbledore stated honestly. "What do you think, Severus?"

For the first time in his life, Severus Snape held no answer. There was no jerky nod, no sarcastic reply, and no outrage against a _Spawn of Potter_. He just stared silently at the door through which Ares Black had walked out moments ago.

* * *

Severus Snape walked across the narrow corridors that led to his office down in the dungeons; his mind filled with thoughts about one single individual.

Harry Potter, or should he say, Ares James Black.

Deep within his mind, he hated Ares James Black since the first day. More than he ever hated Harry Potter. At least Harry Potter was Lily Potter's son. Mister Evans, Lily's father, was named Harrison; Lily had passed on the name to her son, Harrison James Potter. On the other hand, Ares Black reminded him only of his two arch-nemeses, James Potter and Sirius Black. Somehow, that despicable _Gryffindor Black_ had managed to provide a name which Severus just had to hate more, more than he ever hated Harry Potter.

Now though, he was not so sure about his feelings.

Based on the testimony provided by the students of his house, Ares Black had, in a demonstration of political power, neutered his godson's ability to lord over his peers. He had achieved the same with Ronald Weasley and his gryffindors, although the latter involved a not-so-subtle show of his magical power. While it was interesting, it was not… _unheard of_ for a fifteen-year-old to have a corporeal animagus form. After all, the students at the Oriana Academy of Sorcery in Guiana were instructed in the talent at a mere thirteen years of age. It was not so much the transformation, as the _demonstration_ that truly mattered. And the way he had effectively pulled the wind of Dumbledore's arguments in the office spoke even more about his hidden talents.

Masterful.

Slytherin.

Severus would never admit it in public, but the way a true Slytherin should behave. Severus considered Ares Black to be the Slytherin he had wanted his wretched godson to become, and the thought fuelled his anger. Somehow, in the battle of being teachers and role models to godsons, Sirius Black had upped Severus by several degrees by raising a child that Salazar Slytherin would be proud of. Severus could grudgingly admit the fact to himself.

In less than twenty hours of his entrance in Hogwarts, Ares Black had taken over the fulcrum of change in the school. In a single session, he had crushed both Draco and the Weasley boy by a masterful demonstration of power. The lion, Severus mused, was quite an irony. A Slytherin with the heart of a lion.

A Black lion.

A powerful, apex predator. Deadly. Majestic. Mysterious. Black. Slytherin.

Dumbledore would have placed the boy with his aunt's muggle family, if the initial plan was followed. But Severus knew, Harry Potter had turned out better in the hands of Black than he would have under the parenting of his aunt; Lily's sister or not. He had been apoplectic with anger and cursed in colourful invectives when Dumbledore had announced that he had planned to let Potter stay with Petunia. He remembered how angry he was with the dotty old man for even thinking that Petunia Evans would be a proper guardian for a child born with magic.

Dumbledore was barmy.

Severus was almost wistful when he had heard that the Potter boy was gone, despite the fact that Black supposedly took him away. He knew that Dumbledore must have searched for Black for years, but somehow, Black had always avoided being caught. Pettigrew had been taken to prison and there were no grounds for Dumbledore to call for a search on a senior Auror like Black without any grounds. Even if there were any, Severus mused that Black would have been able to crush the old man's attempts to snatch the Potter boy away from him. Despicable or not, Severus had to agree that when it came to being a proper Godfather, Sirius Black was better than him.

That reminded him. Ares Black had not insulted him yet. Forget insulting, he had not even looked at Severus the wrong way. Where was the _arrogance_ that he had expected? He had half-expected the brat to start taunting him and calling him 'Snivellus' just as James Potter would have done. Despite the taunts thrown at him, the brat had showed him the same respect he had given to Minerva. It drove him mad.

Severus' gait sped up in anger as he walked towards his office. How easy would it have been to simply hate the brat! Why couldn't the brat be just as he expected? No! He just had to put Severus completely at sea on the first visit. He wondered if bringing Ares Black into Hogwarts was the most brilliant thing to do, or if Dumbledore's plan would backfire. Nevertheless, he would give the brat a chance. He was a Slytherin, and thus, Severus wished to give him a fair chance. If Black soiled it, then Severus could go back to hating him in peace.

Good.

He had reached his office. Opening the door, he entered into the dark room lit by a few pale lamps. It was his personal brewery, his solace among the hundreds of potion-brewing dunderheads in the school. Sitting on the chair behind his desk, he opened the bottom drawer and took out a photograph. Rubbing the glass with his left sleeve, Severus stared at the photograph with a wistful look. A fourteen-year-old auburn haired girl waved at him, a smile on her face and joy gleaming in her eyes.

He smiled at her, which caused her to wave more, her emerald eyes dancing with excitement.

 _Lily…_

* * *

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led to random floors at random intervals of time; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. There were doors that would not open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that were not really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending to be. It was also very hard to remember where anything was because the objects seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits visited each other, and Ares was sure the coats of armour were perfectly capable of locomotion.

The ghosts did not help the situation either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided through a door you were trying to open. The Bloody Baron was always happy to point new Slytherins in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist would ensure you were either pranked to an inch of your life or ended up in a room or corridor that was as far from your destination as possible. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!" Moreover, that was nothing if you considered the caretaker, Argus Filch, and that dishrag he called a cat, Missus Norris.

Overall, Hogwarts was a moving, living, breathing circus for Ares James Black. The meeting with the grand old man had gotten better than he had expected. All in all, he was sure that he didn't like the old man, but whether Dumbledore deserved his hatred or not was a matter of perspective. Padfoot had more than enough issues with the old man already – Ares' father, James, had told him not to trust Dumbledore, and the incident with Remus Lupin hadn't really helped matters. After that incident though, they weren't really disturbed by the old man or his lackeys - at least from what Ares knew, and he had been an active part of his father's life for years. Then again, it was almost impossible for anyone to track the two of them. Padfoot and him had lived a nomadic life, travelling across countries, visiting places and learning magic from various tutors or tomes. It was a different life from the one Daphne had, but he would have it no other way.

According to Padfoot, Albus Dumbledore was a pacifist, who would go out of the way to preserve the magical world in his image. The Chief Warlock was a vocal supporter of muggleborns, but he wouldn't take a stance against the bigotry prevalent in Britain. Over the last couple of decades, Albus Dumbledore had gone out of his way to suppress the sharing of advanced magical knowledge in Britain, reducing the quality of education at Hogwarts and subtly removing all kinds of obscure magical arts, dubbing them with a single phrase.

 _Dark Magic._

Padfoot named him responsible for making Wizarding Britain a stagnant dump, with outdated knowledge and pushing out useless wizards and witches every year from Hogwarts. The History of Magic teacher was a ghost who droned on about goblin rebellions, keeping the students in ignorance about recent wizarding history. The Potions Master was, apparently, a bully to all houses except Slytherin, although he did know his subject well. The DADA professorship was a running joke of Hogwarts. The school held the world record for hiring not only the maximum number of people for the position, but also for hiring the most incompetent people on the planet. The recent years had set the record for the latter at an all-time high. Apparently, Albus Dumbledore had asked the _muggle-studies_ professor, Quirinus Quirrel, to teach DADA in 1991, followed by Gilderoy Lockhart, who had several arrest warrants to his name in Romania. In 1993, Remus Lupin occupied the professorship – he did not possess the necessary qualifications for the job – and in 1994, a Death-eater turned Azkaban-fugitive, Bartemious Crouch Junior, had captured Alastor Moody and, using polyjuice, impersonated the veteran auror and taught at Hogwarts for a year. It was shocking that Albus Dumbledore, an old friend of Moody, had been completely unaware of the developments. Ares couldn't help but wonder if the old man was actually that incompetent or merely _pretending_ to be such. Ares wasn't sure what was scarier.

According to Padfoot, Dumbledore was the main fulcrum behind passing of the law that made it mandatory for all heirs of ancient families to pass their OWLS and NEWTS from Hogwarts, despite the fact that the law was passed by Stephen Wenlock, one of the more egalitarian Wizengamot members - which Ares translated to _boring sheep_. Padfoot said that with Voldemort resurrected at the end of the 1994-95 school year during the last task of the Triwizard Tournament, Dumbledore wanted the _boy-who-lived_ under his control - a desire that had resulted in the law being passed and initiating the events that Ares led to coming to Hogwarts and Padfoot moving to active politics. His father could go on and on about the evils Dumbledore had created and allowed to fester in Wizarding society, but if there was one thing he agreed to, it was that the Dark Lord Voldemort was a mutual enemy. Padfoot hated the Dark Lord with all his soul, on par with the hatred he held for Albus Dumbledore. Ares, however, was unsure in that respect.

Oh, he understood very well that Voldemort was responsible for his parent's deaths. That did not change the fact that it was his parents, James and Lily Potter, who had decided to join forces with the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore's not-so-secret organisation, to actively fight the Dark Lord. It was a tragedy, but it was not… unexpected since it was a war, and every war has casualties on all sides. Call him pragmatic, but Ares could not understand why James and Lily Potter had been so vocal and aggressive against Lord Voldemort when the leader of the Order himself was a pacifist. Padfoot might think differently, but Ares believed in a different philosophy, taught to him by his tutor.

 _ **You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way and the only way… it doesn't exist.**_

Padfoot might have done all he could to make Ares into a formidable wizard. However, there were lines that even the formidable Sirius Black would never cross. Lines that Ares Black had crossed a long time ago. And while Ares would never support Voldemort, he would never be a part of Dumbledore's order of groupies. His philosophy was simpler. _Live and let live, but cross me at your peril._ There was a reason after all, why the ice-dragon wand had suited him perfectly.

Ares turned around the corridor to arrive at the Potions classroom, and found Daphne and her friends waiting for him near the door. He could see Theodore and Tracy bickering over something, though the Zabini Heir was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps… he should get a private moment and talk to the _apparently_ affable guy.

"Ares." Daphne walked up to him, ignoring the bickering of the couple behind her "Where were you?"

All thoughts of leaving Hogwarts and manipulative old men and dark lords flew out his head as soon as Ares heard the voice of his girlfriend.

"Around." He shrugged. He still couldn't understand the education system prevailing at Hogwarts. The entire morning had been devoid of any classes and now they were supposed to have their Potions class - with the Gryffindors no less - in the afternoon.

 _Seriously! Who puts the two worst rivals in the same classroom filled with volatile items? Does the school want a murder to happen?_ Not for the first time, he thanked Padfoot for the private tutoring he had access to.

"I missed the Creatures class because of you." Daphne complained, staring at him with a hint of anger and teasing in her tone.

Ares raised an eyebrow. Apparently, they _did have_ classes earlier. "Then why didn't you go?"

Daphne scrunched up her face in mock-rage. "Because of the troubles you caused. I ran after you before the schedules could be distributed."

 _Ah!_ "And?" Ares raised an eyebrow.

"And nothing! Now, get in. Professor Snape is going to arrive any moment." Daphne chided, before she all but pulled him along with her.

 _When in Rome…._ Ares mused, before allowing his girlfriend to pull him into the Potions classroom.

* * *

Not for the first time, Ares wondered if Snape was indeed a sadist at heart. The classroom, located in the dungeons, was nearly devoid of light. Adding to the discomfort, the simmering cauldrons, animal parts, plant ingredients and a lack of safety measures created an environment that was torture at best and an explosion waiting to happen at worst. The jars and vials of ingredients on the shelves around the room did not improve the decor. While not gifted at potions, Ares considered himself an adequate brewer. Even his tutor's lab was a lot cleaner, far brighter and was not within the hearts of a creepy dungeon. AND had safety measures built into the tables used for brewing.

Looking at this travesty a thought flitted though Ares' head. _Yes, Severus Snape was a sadist._

"Settle down," said Snape coldly, waving his wand to shut the door behind him as he walked to the desk at the head of the room. There was no real need for the call to order - the moment the class had heard the door close, quiet had fallen and all fidgeting stopped. Snape's mere presence was usually enough to ensure a class's silence.

Ares wondered how the man was able to billow his cloak with such elegance as he walked.

"Before we begin today's lesson," said Snape, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at the group of Slytherins and Gryffindors. "I think it appropriate to remind you that in the coming month of June, you will be sitting an important examination during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'Acceptable' in your O.W.L, or suffer my… _displeasure_."

 _Okay! That was just overdo!_ Ares wondered if the torture chamber had been turned into the potions classroom, especially with the aura of menace that the professor seemed to radiate.

"After this year, many of you will cease studying with me." Snape went on. "I take only the very best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying good-bye. _But_ , we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell." said Snape softly, "So, whether you are intending to attempt N.E.W.T. or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-pass level I have come to expect from my O.W.L. students."

Ares sat silently and wondered what Snape's expectations might be. He saw the professor turn towards him, and sat up straight, his face devoid of any expression.

"Before we begin, I would like to ask a couple of questions to our new student. Mr. Black," Snape's lips curled, wondering if Ares would respond in the same manner as _Potter_ or _Black_. "You have been privately tutored so far, and hence, I must know if you are qualified to sit in this class or not."

Ares nodded but said nothing. Snape continued. "First question, what color is the Dog-breath potion and what does it do?"

Ares kept his expression blank as he answered. "It's purple and causes the drinker to breath fire."

Snape just stared at him for a moment and then said. "Correct. Next question." He paused for a while and then proceeded. "Name a potion that uses salamander blood, lionfish spines, flubberworms' mucus, and honey water; and its use."

"Wiggenweld potion and it's used to wake people up from a deep sleep, or from something like the Draught of Living Death." Ares replied with only a moment's hesitation.

Snape looked at him with a peculiar expression and then nodded. "Correct." He went back to the board and addressed the class.

"Today we will be correcting a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: The Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: If you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing." On Ares' left, Tracy sat straighter, her expression one of the utmost attentiveness. Daphne had told him how Tracy wanted to be a potions-mistress. "The ingredients and method-" Snape flicked his wand as instructions appeared on the board behind him. "-are on the blackboard. You will find everything you need-" He flicked his wand towards the cupboard, whose doors sprang open. "-in the store cupboard. The defective potions are in the cauldrons in front of you. You have an hour and a half… Begin!"

The potion was quite tricky and had not Ares not practiced the potion previously, he would not have been able to correct perfectly. The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities. The mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in counter-clockwise directions. The heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added.

"A light silver vapour should now be rising from your potion," called Snape, with ten minutes left to go. Ares looked at his potion. The surface was simmering with a near silver vapour, which was almost what the result was supposed to be.

Snape stalked through the room, his pointed nose sniffing out some potions at intervals. When he came up to Ares' cauldron, he sniffed and put on a strange expression. "Acceptable." He gave him a jerky nod and walked away to the next student.

Ares sighed. The potions master breathing right down his neck was something he did not want to anticipate waiting for in his future. He would have to talk to the Professor about it, especially after what his father had told him.

Looking around at the rest of the class, he found Tracey had a perfect potion in front of her. Daphne and Theo seemed to have achieved similar results. But, there were potions that appeared _orange_ of all colors when the book did not even mention such and one student appeared to have turned his mixture into a strange pink jelly that seemed ready to burst.

It was going to be a long year at Hogwarts.

* * *

After the class had submitted a vial of their potions to Snape, and Snape had assigned the usual deduction of points and detentions, the students headed back to their respective dormitories or the Great Hall for dinner.

Once their dinner was finished, all Houses had returned to their dormitories. Ares, Daphne and her friends had opened the entrance to the Slytherin common room. As soon as they entered, the group found themselves subjected to the stares of what looked to be the majority of seniors in the House. While Daphne, Tracey, Theo and Blaise recognised the gathering for what it was, Ares realised he was the subject of their stares. The rest of the fifth years entered the common room and took their places around the walls.

Instincts on high alert, Ares shifted into a stance and prepared to draw his wands at the sight of spell fire. Daphne murmured in his ear to calm down and joined the rest of the House along with her friends. Blaise and Theo passed friendly glances towards him. Ares glanced around the assembly, assessing potential threats and non-combatants.

"What can I do for you guys?" he asked warily.

"For starters," A rough gritty voice answered him from behind the crowd. "You can tell us where you stand." The crowd parted and Ares could see a rather tall and bulky figure standing in front of him. The seventh-year boy walked up to Ares and held out his hand. "I am Allister Montague, Scion of the Noble House of Montague. Your reaction during today's breakfast was... _interesting_ , to say the least, and we all would like to satisfy our curiosity."

"So this is an _interrogation_!" Ares asked genially, although no one missed the sharp edge of his tone.

"In a way." Allister shrugged. "Personally, I would think of it as a formal introduction to the politics of Britain."

"And political introductions in Britain are-" Ares replied with a flourish. "-usually done by hounding someone with people on all sides and then shaking hands?"

"Ouch! That was a low blow! Black!" Allister smirked. "But you are right. We should have known that since you are an outsider, you would not know the customs of the House." Allister walked towards him and gestured around the room. "This, Black, is the House Assembly. We host the assembly when the House decides that it needs to know something or when disputes between members need to be resolved formally. Rules are thus - You are free to answer or deny our questions. If you answer, we may ask you to validate said answer. Usually, an oath is sufficient. If you deny it, you remain a pariah in the House until you decided to answer the questions."

"Okay! Interrogation with a sense of humour! Got it! So does this needs to be done _standing_ or could we get ourselves comfortable?" Ares asked, adopting a calm tone of voice. He did not relax his stance.

Allister smirked. "Oh I like you already, Black." Pointing towards the couches, he nodded. "After you."

* * *

The House Assembly was in full session. Every member from fifth-year onward was present and seated. Daphne sat with her friends. It was an unspoken rule that the person to be interrogated would have to remain alone. Ares looked up at the crowd around him - so many faces looking at him. Some burning with curiosity, other with indifference, and then some like Malfoy, glaring at him, their faces red with anger.

Allister and Ares occupied the armchair and couch in the middle of the room, both closely observing the other.

Allister launched the first question. "Why did you come to Hogwarts?"

Ares simply smirked at the seventh-year. "To study at our _illustrious_ school, of course." He put just enough sarcasm into the word.

Most of the seniors narrowed their eyes at the perceived insult, while many outright glared at Ares' contempt for their institution.

Allister's eyes narrowed, but he continued his enquiry. "You are a Potter. Your family has predominantly been in Gryffindor, as far as we know. Your family was a Dumbledore supporter and fought against the Dark lord." Ares understood he was sitting in front of a wannabe death eater. "As you well know, many of our families served the Dark lord, unwittingly or not. How do we know that you are _not_ here on Dumbledore's orders for infiltration into the House of the Snakes?"

From the corner of his eye, Ares could spot Daphne rolling hers, while Blaise shook his head in disappointment. Leaning back on the couch, he smirked. "Now _that_ was a low blow, Mr. Montague. First question and you reduce me to being the old man's spy. What would your father say when he hears you insulted a Lord of a Noble and Ancient House?" Allister's face turned serious. Ares continued. "But let's ignore that, what with it been _sporty_ and all…" Daphne suppressed a grin. "No, I am not, as you say, a Dumbledore supporter. In fact, the only reason I am here was because of that ridiculous law that your fathers voted for, the law that says the heirs of Ancient Houses would have to take their OWLS and NEWTS from Hogwarts."

There was some murmuring amongst the crowd all around while several students, specifically the heirs with seats on the Wizengamot glared at the insult to their family.

Before any heir could express his displeasure, Alfred Cuthbert, s sixth-year, spoke out. "Forgive me, Black, but the fact that your parents were all Gryffindors, and yet you are here in Slytherin without so much as a howler from Lord Black is quite... surprising for us."

While it was a common saying that children would be sorted into the Houses of their parents, it was well known that the child could also be sorted into another house, Sirius Black being a rather famous example. Ares remembered Gregorovitch's words.

" _A child is, not necessarily, the sum of their parents."_

There were quite a few famous examples of children not being sorted into the Houses of their parents. But these fools behaved like Houses actually mattered. Ares really wished that his intelligence would not drop because of his proximity to the morons.

"My father might have been a Gryffindor but you have to keep in mind that he was raised Slytherin." He replied. "The Blacks have been Slytherins for hundreds of years." Turning to Montague, he continued "Your information is wrong. My great-great grandfather was a Slytherin. In fact, his cousins were either Slytherins or sorted into Ravenclaw. It was only since the time of my grandfather that my family was sorted into Gryffindor."

Everyone started muttering loudly at the revelations. They continued until Malfoy spoke up. "I don't believe you Potter. Your animagus is a bloody lion of all things." Turning towards the rest of the crowd, he asked. "Do you people need any more reasons to believe that he is technically a Gryffindor, just pretending to be a Slytherin on the old man's orders?"

A few people were agreeing with the Malfoy scion and the tables were turning again. _These…morons actually with that ferret's reasoning?_ Ares knew that unless he pacified the crowd, his stay at Hogwarts could become much more problematic. The words of his father came to mind.

 _ **Magical Britain is a dump, Ares. A big, stagnant dump. The society is antiquated and unwilling to progress, thanks to the combined efforts of both the Light and the Dark factions. If they are making you enter the dump, do your best to cause as much chaos as you can. Do not hide your abilities. But also keep your most powerful assets away from prying eyes. Show them what they expect to see, and then, what they want to see. Let them cause divides among themselves. That is the only way, in which you can finally make them see the truth.**_

Ares smirked. "So because I am a lion, you are thinking I do not deserve to be a Slytherin." He turned his emerald eyes and looked directly at the Scion of House Malfoy. "Now-" he began in a rather loud but stern voice, "-if I were to prove that I am _more worthy than you_ are to stay in Slytherin; what would you do?" He looked towards the rest of the crowd, smirking as he did. "If I prove that I am more worthy of being called a Slytherin than _all of you_ , what will you do?"

Blaise frowned at the words. He understood what Black was up to. Black was going to reveal about his lordship. It was quite a disappointing move. He had hoped that Black would be able to hold on that card for a bit longer.

Drawing his black wand, Ares pointed it towards the floor. "Serpensortia!"

A rather large Indian cobra sprang out of his wand. It hissed angrily at being summoned without its wish. Allister and several members of the house jumped at the summon while Daphne smiled.

" _Listen to me serpent!"_ Ares hissed and a veritable amount of shrieks filled the common room at hearing the language of the serpents. Blaise' eyes widened in shock before smirking at the demonstration, mentally doffing a hat to Ares James Black.

"You are a-a-a b-bloody Parselmouth!" Allister asked, his shock overtaking his calm demeanour.

Ares smirked. He looked at the serpent.

Upon hearing a speaker, the cobra had stopped hissing and turned to face Ares. " _What can I do for you, noble Speaker?"_

" _Scare them, but do not bite them."_ The members of the house shivered at hearing the language.

The cobra nodded its hood towards him, as if paying homage before hissing dangerously towards the crowd. People shrieked and some even ran away in fear.

"Is that enough for your curiosity or do you need more proof?" He asked, smirking.

Allister gulped. "It is enough, Black. Forgive me for doubting you."

Ares looked at the crowd before him. Malfoy's expression was a combination of shock, fear, anger and jealousy. Blaise sat impressed, and Daphne winked at him. Theo and Tracy were shocked and impressed at Ares' previously unknown ability.

"Well, let's call it a night then." Ares waved his wand, vanishing the serpent and holstering his wand. Standing up and sending a wink towards Daphne, he began walking towards his room, heedless of the eyes on him. The crowd parted for him and continued to stare as he entered his room and locked the door.

The silence in the common room did not abate for a long while after.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: (22-12-2017) Another beautiful evening. I wonder if I can get some chips on the… Oh! Sorry guys. Arcturus has vanished off the face of the earth for quite some time. So, the responsibility of this AN falls to me.**

 **I'm not sure what to state beyond "Enjoy the chapter. Updates shall come in time."**

 **Still, it is an AN. Can't keep it too bland.**

 **One definite fact shall be stated her: Ares, in no way, shape or form, will be a God or an OP-character. The supporting cast will play a bigger role and we shall endeavour to enrich the story to the best of our ability.**

 **I give thanks to all the reviewers, the people who fav and follow the story. We will take suggestions seriously.**

 **Thanks to that one reviewer who suggested a good alternative for our character roster. We did consider your suggestion, but we decided to stick to our choice. Thanks for the suggestion.**

 **And for those who are currently looking for updates to the other stories on his profile, we shall restart them in time.**


	8. Transfiguration and Moody

The fifth-year Slytherins and Gryffindors walked into the transfiguration classroom for the first class of the day. Today was going to be Ares's first class with Professor McGonagall, and he was anticipating the class more than any other. He had grown up hearing stories about her stern nature and, her almost contradictory enthusiasm for winning the Quidditch Cup. She was also his dad's godmother. His dad had written in his journal that, during the school term, she never allowed him any leeway because of the relationship. However, a part of him feared that his experience with her might not be so pleasant. He was a _Slytherin_ and she was the head of Gryffindor House. More importantly, he had boldly claimed that he preferred to be a Slytherin to her face. He hoped that his claim would not come back to bite him.

The transfiguration classroom was quite different compared to the Potions class he attended yesterday. Located on the third-floor, the room felt far more spacious. The door opened to a large room filled with large desks for the students, a blackboard with a teacher's desk in front, a set of stairs leading to an office on the far right and two large windows filled with moving mosaics on the left wall.

Ares could feel the difference in ambient magic between the rooms. Down in the dungeons, the potions classroom had a rather constricted feeling to its magic; it felt hard, calm and controlled. Here, the magic felt quite raw; like metamorphosis, conversion, and free will.

Sitting on a rather large table in front of the rows of the students taking their seats was a medium-sized tabby cat, brown with some black spots over the fur. Ares smirked, stories about McGonagall's animagus form rising in his mind. A grin forming on his lips, he drew his black wand and conjured a small bowl, filling it with milk summoned from the kitchens. Once the bowl was full, he walked towards the table, paying no heed to the stumped expressions of the class, both at his display of magic and the sense of what he was about to do. A couple of students tried to stop him but his quick stride did not let them. Stopping in front of the teacher's desk and staring at the cat with a grin, he laid the bowl of milk on the desk.

The students watched, flabbergasted, as the cat actually swooped down and quickly tasted some of the milk. In a split second, the cat transformed into a rather stern looking Professor McGonagall standing in front of Ares.

Her lips twitching with amusement, and irritation at the gall of the boy, McGonagall, with an eagle-eyed glare, rebuked him. "Mr. Black that was very presumptuous of you; taking advantage of the weakness of my animagus form like that."

Ares put forth the image of an apologetic student, giving her his best innocent-look, and said "I am sorry Professor. I had no idea that it was you. I thought it was your pet cat or something."

McGonagall's lips twitched at his expression. She knew that the rapscallion in front of her was putting up an act. That innocent look was so…James, along with Lily's eyes. Add to that the forlorn expression that the boy must have copied from Sirius and it was incredibly difficult for her to hold onto her anger. She knew that he had pranked her and in public, no less. How the boy was not in Gryffindor was beyond her.

"Very well Mr. Black, please try to limit your... _natural_ drive a little. Now take a seat. We are delaying the class." She did not miss the ghost of a smile that appeared on his lips. _Just like James._

The class watched stupefied as Ares James Black, Slytherin and Parselmouth, returned back to find a seat, despite having essentially pranked the Head of Gryffindor House in her own class. To most of the students, it was one of the few impossibilities of the magical world.

 _Must be one of the '_ being Harry Potter _' things._ They thought to themselves.

Ares took a seat beside Daphne who had reflexively moved on the bench to give him seating space, causing Tracey to nearly fall down on the other end, bringing a sudden " _Ooof_ " from her. She glared at the intrusion but Daphne maturely stuck out her tongue at her.

 _Romance gone to the head._ Tracey to herself.

Tapping her wand on the desk for silence, McGonagall began her lecture. "Today we shall begin the study of Inanimate Conjuration. As Mr. Black demonstrated a few moments earlier - for the record," She stopped to stare at Ares, "Five Points to Slytherin -" She continued her lesson. "We will begin by conjuring lighter materials such as wood and leather and then move on to the denser ones such as marble and metals. I should like to inform you that it is impossible to conjure Gold and it will be better if you do not try to exhaust yourself because of your fool's hope of conjuring wealth." There were a few sniggers around the classroom. "Silver is quite difficult to conjure, but not impossible. However, you will find that it is much easier to transfigure other materials into silver."

"Why is that, professor?" asked Theo, who had his quill poised to diligently note down points told by the professor.

"Can anyone answer that question?" McGonagall asked to the class. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

Putting her hand down, a brunette with a curly mass of bushy brown hair rose up. "That is because conjuration requires more energy than transfiguration; and silver requires an energy equivalent of 50 quints, which is quite difficult for an average witch or wizard to supply in a single wand movement."

"A rather arithmantic answer, but in essence, correct. Take 5 points. Anyone else have any alternate ideas?" the professor asked to the crowd.

Ares was quite enjoying the way McGonagall was immersing the class into a discussion-based study approach. It was exactly the way he himself preferred. On a whim, he put his hand up and, just as he hoped, the professor took him up on it.

"Yes, Mr. Black?" asked McGonagall, curious about the extent of his knowledge, and wondering if he had James's talent for Transfiguration.

"Because conjuration is essentially elemental transfiguration, which is of course, much more complex and taxing than regular transfiguration."

McGonagall smiled at him. This was an answer she would expect from a person well versed in the magical theory behind transfiguration. Especially one who had an innate understanding of the subject. While Miss Granger had quite an exemplary memory, rote memorization did not ensure proper understanding of principles; especially when concerning a visually imaginative subject like Transfiguration.

"Care to elaborate, Mr. Black?"

Ares smiled at her and replied "When we conjure material out of thin air, what we are actually doing is transfiguring the air around us. Air, like water, earth and fire, is an element and hence, I described transfiguration from air as elemental transfiguration and cross-elemental transfiguration is one of the most difficult feats to achieve. As a result, it is far easier to transfigure a solid to a solid than air to a solid and why conjuration is rather difficult. As far as silver is concerned, it requires a very high amount of magical energy, 50 quints to be exact, as Miss Granger just stated." The class was listening with rapt attention. "However, transfiguring a solid like wood to silver requires less around 15 quints, around a third of the energy requirement of conjuring the same substance. Hence, silver is better transfigured than conjured."

The class was completely silent. Even Hermione Granger and Theodore Nott, who normally could be seen noting down every word that the professor uttered, looked at Ares with awe. They had never seen another student who had explained Transfiguration in a manner that did not repeat a textbook verbatim.

McGonagall had a broad grin on her face and she smiled broadly at him. "Fifteen points on a fantastic explanation of the basic principle of conjuration. I couldn't say it better myself."

Ares just looked at her and smiled with a silent nod, sitting down on the bench.

"Always the showman, aren't you?" Daphne nudged him in his ribs with a sly grin.

"I try." Ares replied, grinning at his girlfriend.

"So with that," McGonagall drew attention back to her with her words. "Let us begin our lesson on conjuration. We are going to begin by conjuring a wooden object. The object can be anything. A box, a chair, a table, anything you are familiar with and know vividly. Try your best but make sure that you do not exert yourself too much. We do not want any patients of magical exhaustion in our first class. The spell is ' _Evoco substantiam lignorum_ **'** and the wand movement is an anticlockwise flick with a straight wand dive." She performed it for all to see as a wooden stature of a cat formed out of thin air. "Begin."

After an hour of repeated chanting, focusing and wand waving, many students were able to conjure an object or more. A couple of them were still waving their wands uselessly, including one Ron Weasley, the other being Vincent Crabbe. Hermione Granger had conjured a wooden desk with a drawer. It was quite miniature in size but the transfiguration was excellent. Theo had conjured a wooden table, while Tracey had conjured a rather nice-looking oval basket. Daphne was working on getting her rather fashionable chair conjured out of thin air. It was still under way but she was progressing very well, while Ares had a fully conjured stag in front of him.

"That's a beautiful stag, Ares." Blaise commented from the adjacent table. He had conjured a miniature garden maze. "But why a stag?"

"My dad was a stag animagus. He became one in his fifth year at school. My father has showed me several many memories of this stag form." Ares gently caressed the smooth wooden outline of the antlers of the stag. "Hello Prongs!"

"James would have been very proud of you, Mr. Black. He too was a natural at Transfiguration like you." McGonagall smiled at the son of her two dear friends in joy and grief. Joy, because despite his words in the Headmaster's office, he dearly loved them. And grief for learning about his parents through memories.

Ares just smiled at her. The professor had no idea how literally true her statement was. The fact that transfiguration was just as natural to him as it was for his dad was one of the many things that endeared the subject to him.

"Thank you, Ma'am."

McGonagall smiled at him.

* * *

Once McGonagall dismissed the class for the day, the students began leaving the room, when the professor asked Ares to stay back for a talk. Ares did not know what to expect, but his gut instinct told him that it was okay and did not leave his seat. After the classroom was deserted, she strode up to him and stroked the wooden stag with a caress. "How long does it sustain?"

"A day at most." Ares shrugged. "I could create a runic matrix to stabilize the form."

McGonagall narrowed her eyes at the answer. "In that case, I shall be keeping this one. It will be a memento of my departed godson. Though the runic matrix would be appreciated."

Ares smiled. "I shall get it done as soon as possible."

At Ares' smile, she continued. "So how advanced are you, Mister Black?"

"Finishing NEWT level, professor." There was simply no reason to hide his abilities, at least in the usual subjects. His father had given him carte blanche to display his abilities and not hold back.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? Then, an assessment of your abilities is in order. What would you say to a friendly duel, one based only on Transfiguration?"

Ares smirked and rose to the challenge. "Bring it on, professor."

Almost surprised at the casual way her student had accepted her challenge, McGonagall stated. "Only transfiguration, no other spells. Whenever you feel the need to stop, just shout it out. I will stop."

"Sure thing, professor." Ares replied with a grin.

The desks and benches were shifted to the sides, creating a modest duelling arena. Student and Professor moved to opposite ends and whipped their wands out.

McGonagall curled her lip and uttered "Begin..."

His black wand singing in unison with his magical core, Ares swished it methodically in the air, transfiguring the chair near him into a wolf which barged at the professor.

McGonagall transfigured the wolf into a javelin in mid-air and sent it hurtling towards her student. The javelin was stopped by a rather large stone slab conjured by Ares who transfigured pieces of the slab into small birds which attacked McGonagall, only to be conjured into little flowers that fell harmlessly on the rug. Raising her hand to bring the duel to a stop, both of them relaxed their stances for the upcoming round they knew would come.

"Not bad! Not bad at all!" McGonagall commented, a pleased smile on her face. She knew James would have sung praises about his son's talent until the readers went deaf while Lily would have smiled at her husband's antics with fondness exasperation. The thought sent a brief stab of grief through her heart.

"I aim to please, professor." Ares finished with a lop-sided grin.

McGonagall's lips twitched at his expression. "Then let us, just as the muggles say, raise it up by a notch?"

Ares just shrugged in confirmation.

"How did you get so proficient at silent transfiguration?" McGonagall asked while changing one of the desks into a leopard, which sprang on Ares, only to be caught in a net, conjured out of pieces of leftover slab by the latter who reversed the transfiguration, changing the leopard back into a desk.

Ares transfigured the trophies standing on top of a cupboard behind McGonagall into killer vines and ordered them to bind her. The vines leapt towards her only to be transfigured back into snakes and sent them back to him.

Ares smirked. " _Attack and Bind her!"_ He hissed.

The snakes stopped and immediately leapt back towards McGonagall who stood stupefied for a split second. Regaining her focus, she transfigured the snakes into pillows just as they neared her feet.

"That will be enough!" Both duellists took a deep breath as she looked at Ares with shrewd eyes. "You are a Parseltongue?" she asked, her tone filled with curiosity.

"Yes, professor. I have it since I was a kid." Ares wondered if she would think of him as a Dark Wizard.

"Oh". The professor's face grew serious. "Others might not take your ability with good humour. As it is, Slytherin himself was a Parselmouth, and then You-know-who was one too." While _she_ knew that the ability was far more common in the east and was revered by the Indian magical community, Britain would simply label Ares as the next You-Know-Who.

Recognising her tone as one of concern rather than fear, Ares said "Voldemort." Knowing the fear people had for the very name, he decided that he would not flinch from saying it aloud.

McGonagall flinched. It was a knee-jerk reaction, a near subconscious reflex of the fear caused by the name of the worst Dark Lord in the history of Britain. Ares frowned at her reaction. "That may well be… But you being in Slytherin, and a Parselmouth… I am not sure how the others will react." She knew very well how they would. "Perhaps you should hide it from the general masses-"

Ares cut her off. "It is too late for that, Professor. I made the news public in the Slytherin common room last night."

"Why would anyone in the right mind do that?" McGonagall nearly yelled in exasperation.

"It is just a language, Professor. It is an ability like any other. A skill I want to develop. Just because _some_ -" Ares put heavy emphasis on the word, letting McGonagall know exactly who he was talking about. "-people are too dumb to think it as evil, doesn't mean I will just hide it away." He ended on a firm tone.

"It is more complicated than that!" McGonagall sighed, knowing he was both right and wrong. She relaxed her pose, conjured two chairs, and sat on one of them and gestured towards the other. Ares took the seat and looked at her attentively.

"You have to understand how it was like." McGonagall began her lecture. "The magical world had barely recovered from the aftershocks of the Great War of Europe. Dumbledore had defeated Grindelwald, thus ending what was otherwise a dark age for Wizarding Britain. We barely had three decades of peace before the terrorist attacks had begun all over Britain. The name behind them?"

"V- _Voldemort_. The heir of Slytherin."

"Then, people started disappearing. Anyone who was brave enough to speak against him or the death eaters would be murdered. Or worse. Imagine returning back from work one day, only to find your home demolished, your family murdered, your house in flames, with that detestable dark mark hovering over your roof." McGonagall looked up at him sharply. "It is not cowardice when people flinch at his name. It is the result of decades of suffering. Someone would say his name, and instantly death eaters would surround you. The wizarding population may be pacifists, but they are not plain cowards. That reaction, which caused you to frown, is a symbol of the tyranny we suffered for over a decade."

"Till Halloween, 1981." Ares ended for her.

McGonagall looked at him sharply and nodded in affirmation. "Till Halloween 1981. You defeated him as a baby. The world rejoiced at the victory of the Boy-who-lived." There was distaste in her voice at the title. "I lost my godson and my god-grandson had vanished away from Magical Britain." She looked at him, fighting to keep her tears at bay.

Ares just stared at her. Silently.

"And now, fourteen years later, the people come to know that another Parselmouth has come to Hogwarts." She stood up, walked over to him and placed her hands on his shoulders with a firm grip. Ares nearly flinched at the touch. If she felt it, she certainly didn't show any reaction. "They cannot help but be afraid. Afraid that perhaps the Boy-Who-Lived was just another, more powerful dark wizard; and that is what will happen. I cannot imagine the public reaction that is going to follow because of your decision."

Ares looked up at her and placed his right hand over hers. "Professor, Pad and I knew that the public reaction will not be good. Nevertheless, I do have a real trump card in my hand. I can tell you about it, but I will need an Oath of Silence from you."

McGonagall raised her eyebrow at that statement. His words reminded her of the Marauders during their time at the school. "You can trust me, Ares."

Ares nodded. "I can, and I do. However, I do not trust anyone else in the school staff. At least, not yet. So, please understand my concerns."

She nodded. "Very well." Taking her hands of his shoulder and raising her wand above her head, she intoned. "I, Minerva McGonagall hereby swear on my magic that I will keep the secrets Ares James Black shares with me. I also swear not to disclose said secrets to others without his express permission. As have I sworn, so mote it be."

Her wand flared and a shade of vermillion glowed around her. Ares whispered silently and a layer of magic surrounded the two of them in a ward.

"Parseltongue privacy ward. Much more difficult to break into and quite easy to set up." He explained, deciphering the look on her face. Raising his right fist, he pointed it towards her.

A large gold signet ring studded with an emerald and opals manifested on his ring finger. An ornate snake was engraved on the emerald. A basilisk, to be exact. Below the snake was a House Crest, a symbol that was believed to have gone extinct nearly a thousand years ago.

 **The Noble and Most Ancient House of Slytherin.**

"You... you are the heir of Slytherin?" The old professor stammered in shock. She wondered how he obtained the signet ring. She thought that it was a rather elaborate prank, some part of expecting Sirius to jump out of the cupboard. She hoped that Ares had not told anyone about it. But most of all, she wished Voldemort never learned of it.

" _Head_." Ares corrected her gently. "I am the _Head_ of Slytherin. For now, at least." Ignoring her shock at his words, he continued. "Moreover, as for your unasked question, it came from my mother. She was the heiress of Slytherin."

McGonagall's mind shut down at the answer. She took a few seconds to overcome her shock before saying "But Lily, she was a muggleborn…" Her words trailed off before understanding dawned on her face. "You mean to say that your maternal grandparents were squibs from the Slytherin line?"

Ares nodded, inwardly enjoying her reaction to the reveal.

"Inexplicable." McGonagall sat down on the chair, hoping to regain some of her equilibrium.

Ares shrugged. "Voldemort- He was never the heir. He just thought he was. He is an offspring of the Gaunts, who had married into Slytherin House. Padfoot thinks that his Parseltongue might be because of the Slytherin blood in him. However, only someone born of the main line of House of Slytherin can be a Lord. Precisely, Me."

McGonagall just stared. She did not know what to think. Lily Evans had been tormented a lot during her time at Hogwarts by the Slytherin students; especially considering her friendship with Severus. To know that she was actually a Slytherin by blood, it was completely unbelievable. She morbidly wondered if You-Know-Who would suffer a heart attack at learning of his attempt at ending the Slytherin lineage on Halloween, 1981. She felt the insane urge to giggle at the thought.

Dragging her mind, and emotions, under control with Occlumency, she asked "Who... who _else_ knows about this?"

"Me, Pad, Daphne and her friends, a couple of other people; and now... You."

"You aren't working much to keep it a secret." McGonagall spoke sharply. She was worried about the public's and You-Know-Who's reaction and the boy in front of her was all but parading it around.

"No." Ares answered calmly. He wondered if the professor's reactions to the news would be mimicked by the general population. "I hold the Lordship and intend to accept the seat at the Wizengamot one day. After all, that is exactly why I am here in the first place."

McGonagall just stared, pieces of the puzzle clicking in place. "You do not really need a Hogwarts education." Her tone was accusing. _This boy was going to be the death of her!_

"I will neither accept nor deny that accusation." Ares grinned.

McGonagall's lips thinned. _Just like his father._ She wondered if all Potters were the same and loved to go against societal and rational conventions. Understanding that she would not be changing his course, she made her decision. Sitting straight and staring at him in his eyes, she spoke, a firmness beneath her words. "Well then, if there is anything I can do to help you, do let me know. I missed being a part of my godson's life. At least, I can be a part of yours."

Ares's eyes instantly glazed over with thought. McGonagall knew that the reaction was just like Lily, whenever she was thinking something furiously.

"Well, there is something you might be able to tell me." Ares grinned at her.

Something told McGonagall that he was up to no good. That lop-sided grin never was. She had seen the same grin plenty of times to know that what came next would be anything but innocent "And what exactly would that be?" She asked warily, tone with filled resignation.

Ares adopted an innocent look that fooled no one. "Well... I am the Head and soon-to-be Lord of Slytherin. Being such, I want to seek my ancestor's Chamber of Secrets. Could you point it out where it is and how do I get in there, despite the wards the Headmaster might have put over the entrance?"

 _Definitely like his father._

* * *

Ares sprinted off the empty corridor. The private _discussion_ with McGonagall had taken up quite some time, and he _did not wish_ to miss the next class - Defence against the Dark Arts Class. The professor, Alastor Moody, was a former Master Auror and occupying the DADA post since last year, though all sorts of rumours had been floating around about some imposter personating him and links to the Triwizard tournament. Dumbledore, as usual, had done his best to sweep the news under the rug, though the Tournament and the influx of reporters in the castle made things a tad difficult.

Sirius had regaled him with enough stories about his own time as a rookie Auror. Moody had trained both James and him personally before the duo were promoted to the posts of Senior Auror. They maintained a good friendship with the paranoid ex-auror until the events of Halloween, 1981.

While he did sustain severe injuries, notably the loss of his, Moody remained one of the most effective Aurors during the war against Voldemort, being personally responsible for the arrest of over twenty Death Eaters and the death of another forty. After the events of 1981 and the subsequent trails that followed, he retired from active duty and became a trainer at the Auror Academy. According to the rumours floating around, he had taken up a teaching position at Hogwarts due to a request from Dumbledore and had renewed his contract for another year.

Sirius had been shocked to hear that Dumbledore had managed to convince Moody to come to a school and teach, as he put it, 'snotty-nosed-little-buggers'.

The defence classroom was every bit as different as Ares had expected. Desks were concentrated on side of the room with a large vacant space occupying a third of the large room. He surmised the room to be twice as large as the Duelling room at Black Manor, although he did suspect space expansion charms were at work. The vacant space stood between the desks and the blackboard with a teacher's desk in front. The desks were full of students chatting with each other, front desks half empty with a couple of Gryffindors, seated at the back, playing exploding snap. A large window occupied the wall to the left of the row of desks.

Ares smirked and took a seat beside Daphne on the front desk, wanting an unobstructed view of a class that was taken by a man that Pad had praised. Tracey sat beside Theo and Blaise occupied the desk behind them alongside another fifth-year Slytherin. The professor was nowhere to be seen. He looked around and could not see anyone besides the students still chatting with each other. A sudden flash of memory reminded him of an anecdote Pad had shared with him.

The doctrine of Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody.

 _Constant Vigilance._

Following his gut instinct, Ares drew his black wand and held it firm, ready to cast a shield at the first sign of trouble. Drawing a tome out of his bag, he began reading. Daphne was, similarly, reading from her defence textbook, and Ares knew she would not appreciate being disturbed. Tracey relaxed on her seat, Theo was reading from a tome whose name had faded and Blaise was glancing around the classroom. A glance around showed Ares that the rest of the class was either chatting, playing a game or simply relaxing.

The class was nearly drowning in noise when a brown-colored curse flew through the air and hit Dean Thomas. Said boy froze as he slipped onto the floor, still rigid without any movement. A few students, which included Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil and Pansy Parkinson, shrieked while several began drawing their wands anticipating another attack and others ducked under their desks after the shock had passed. Ron, in particular seemed to be projecting a sense of bravado, waving his wand in every direction while his face showed fear.

Ares put up a low-level shield covering himself and Daphne, who mirrored his actions and put up a similar shield, though she had to utter the incantation and perform the wand movement. Tracey and Theo had quickly followed suit while Blaise had raised a shield just as Ares did. A crimson spell splashed on their shield before dissipating

"Well done." The voice of Moody boomed through the hall. The students followed the source of the sound and found their Defence Professor materializing out of the air from one of the corners of the room to the left of the board. Releasing Thomas from the body-bind curse, Alastor Moody dropped his walked up to the center of the room, his wooden leg and staff creating a thunk sound across the room. His fierce gaze swept across the room, his magical left eye rotating quickly and taking stock of the room and its inhabitants. His litany of scars and missing limb and eye indicated a gruesome past and his eagle-eyed gaze showed that he was not a person to be trifled with.

"Pad was right. The man's persona does seem to fill the room." Ares mused.

"Good morning to everyone. Now, for those who do not know…" Moody's magical left eye focused on Ares. "My name is Alastor Moody. I was a Master Auror of over two decades and have been in the field for more than forty years of my life." He paused for a moment. "I'd also like to talk about some of the… more nefarious rumours that have been existing, something about me being bested, held captive in my own trunk, by a certain… someone in order to fulfil a particularly sinister plot that led to the death of Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff."

"Are the rumours true, Professor?" Lavender Brown asked.

"All of them baseless, I assure you, though off the grid, some of that is true as well."

He paused, looking at their expressions of shock, fear and, confirmation on some. His Eye passed another glance over the last group. "But now that I am here, I am responsible for teaching you what Defence actually means and making sure you all are able to walk on the street, keeping your head from blowing off."

Moody's diatribe received a few laughs. "Found it funny, did we?" He continued in a gruff voice. "We'll see how funny it is when I'm done with your butts. I was told that the imposter taught well enough, but did not care to teach discipline to you, the most important part of Defence. Let me see if you little buggers can handle the real me."

He waved his staff, drawing the attention of everyone in class. "Who can tell me what this is?"

"A staff, sir." Tracey answered. Ares glanced back at her, sitting beside Theo. He wondered if the duo sat together every chance they could get. _Almost Hufflepuff-ish_ , he mused. His attention diverted to the beautiful girl beside him, a smirk on her lips, as though she knew the direction his thoughts had taken.

 _Okay, perhaps that was a bit hypocritical of me._

Moody continued. "Yes. A staff. Now, who can tell me the difference between a staff and a wand?"

"Staves are more powerful."

"They can fire more spells."

"You can use them to attack people peacefully."

"Staff is just an old-fashioned wand."

Students from both houses were firing answers, Moody's eye flickering from one face to another as he heard their answers. _They might not be morons, but they really do need a wake-up call._ He really wished he could drill them on tactics as he did his aurors, especially after the pathetic reactions and miserable reflexes shown when he attacked them. His eye briefly focused on the two students who had the best reaction times of the lot, Ares and Blaise.

Seeing the students starting to spout fiction from children's tales, Moody interrupted them. "Not one of you are close to the right answer. A bigger stick doesn't give you more power or speed or greater spell strength. Think before you answer, especially when you start telling fairy tales."

The class had fallen completely silent at his words. Many of the students, especially Granger, outright glared at the man for dismissing their answers when Ares casually held his hand up.

Noticing the son of his former student raise his hand, Moody stared at him and asked "Yes, Mr. Black?"

Putting his hand down, Ares spoke clearly. "Staves are used by wizards and witches with more potent magic."

The class seemed mystified by his answer, wondering what he meant while Blaise and Theo seemed to be laughing at their reactions.

"Very technical. Can you elaborate?" Moody urged.

"Every witch and wizard possesses a certain level of magical potency. While it is an excellent foci of magic, a wand proves to be a bane for people with highly potent magic. While a wand may be corrected to channel this attribute efficiently, it requires the addition of multiple cores which greatly destabilise the wand, and such additions rarely last before they burn down. On the other hand, a staff is forged with multiple cores during the initial bonding process and can resist the effects of magical erosion. Hence, staff is far more suitable for people with high highly potent magic."

"Excellent elucidation of the fact, Potter." Moody said, a smile on his gnarled face. "A word after class."

Ares nodded in understanding and Daphne shook her head at his talent for showing off while the rest of the class sat in stunned silence. Tracey and Theo glanced at him with interest while Blaise stared in silent amusement.

While some basics of wand lore were taught for students who chose alchemy and spell-crafting for their NEWT's, it was extremely surprising for a pre-OWL level student to possess knowledge on the subject. There was a reason for wand-crafting to be considered as one of the more esoteric branches of magic.

Passing one last glance at Ares, Moody turned back to the class and barked to drag their attention to him. "Let's return to the subject. I have a higher magical potency and hence I use a staff. You do not have enough magical potency to use a staff and hence you are comfortable with a wand. This year, we will learn to alter curses and spells in terms of potency."

A brown-haired Gryffindor girl raised her wand.

"Yes, Miss?"

"Granger, Professor. Hermione Granger. I have a question."

Moody nodded and gestured her to continue.

"Professor Dumbledore uses a wand, sir. Does that mean you are more powerful than him?"

A few whispers pervaded the class. Moody surveyed the class, his eyes resting on Ares, who sat smiling. Moody's electric eye flickered away to the rest of the class.

"Interesting question." He replied. "Let me put it this way. The Headmaster uses a wand, and yet is the most powerful wizard in Britain. Yet, I use a staff and no one calls me any such thing. Contradictory, isn't it?"

The entire class was hanging on Moody's word.

"That would be because Dumbledore is more powerful, not potent."

"Aren't they the same thing sir?" Hermione followed up.

"No. Power and potency are two entirely different things. Let us put it like this. Who among you here can demonstrate a Reducto spell?"

A few among the class raised their hands.

"You!" Moody called out to Seamus Finnegan. "Care to demonstrate a Reducto for me?"

The boy gulped but stood up, and strode ahead to the center of the room. He pulled his wand out of his back pocket, much to the consternation on Moody's face, and prepared to cast on the wall to the right.

"Wait." The Defense professor stopped him. Conjuring a metal shield on the wall, he gestured towards it. "Fire your spell on the shield."

Seamus nodded and yelled out. " _Reducto_ " and a purple spell shot out of his wand.

Ares noticed that the color was vividly distinct, unlike his own spells which were more of a pale blur. Perhaps something about power or potency made the spells different.

The spell collided with the shield with a definitive 'BANG' causing nothing; more than a minor etch on the surface.

"Good. Now return to your seat. Anyone else cares to demonstrate?"

Seamus returned to his seat while Hermione stood up and walked down the rows. On Moody's gesture, she swished her wand, the movement being textbook precise, and yelled " _Reducto_." Another jet of purple flew out and hit the shield, the sound of the collision reverberating much louder this time. A closer look at the shield displays a couple of more etches on the surface.

On a whim, Ares put his arm up. Moody looked at him for a moment before performing the same gesture. Ares walked down and whipped his white wand out of his wrist holster. He could have sworn a pleased look flicked across Moody's face.

Ares wasn't worried about people finding out about his dual wands. Especially, since his white wand was glamoured to like his black wand. While Moody's Eye might be able to see through it, he knew the ex-Auror wouldn't say a word about it.

Without any complex movements or incantations, he pointed his wand the center of the shield and cast the spell. A pale blur flew out of his wand to strike the shield in the targeted spot. Unlike the previous attempts, there was a hard "CLANG" as the shield broke in two at the middle.

The class fell silent at the display as some of the Slytherins and Gryffindors gazed at him with shock, envy and anger. Ron was red in the face as he glared at the new student while Granger stared at the result in unabashed curiosity. Daphne wore a proud smile, while her friends looked quite shocked at the result.

"Powerful." Moody nodded in approval at the silent casting and accuracy. "Very powerful. Nonverbal casting as well. Good job, boy. Anyway, what did we understand from the experiment so far?"

"That Black packs a punch?" Tracey pointed out shrewdly, causing a few sniggers to erupt.

"Indeed, he does." Moody continued. "But what else? Miss Granger?" His Eye swivelled to the bushy-haired girl.

"That Black has a higher magical power compared to me?"

"Yes. But now, observe." Banishing the metal pieces, Moody conjured another identical shield in the same place. Aiming his staff at the target, he whispered. " _Reducto_."

A pale blur, similar to Black's, flew from the staff. But, there was no sound as the spell struck, nor did the shield break into pieces. Instead, there was a now a precise hole where the metal was struck by the spell.

The students, barring a few, were staring in complete bewilderment at the display.

Moody gestured, rather unnecessarily, towards the shield. "Observe. My spell did not break the shield as Black's spell did. However, what my spell did accomplish was to completely obliterate the fraction it came in contact with. Something that did not happen with Black's attack. How do we explain that?" His Eye swivelled across the room, as he stood waiting for an answer.

Daphne raised her hand. "Because you have more magical _potency_ than Black?"

"Essentially." Moody complied. "Potency is different from power. Power is the amount of energy that you can supply to a spell. The higher your power, the more energy you can supply. Potency is about the concentration of magic in the spell. The greater the concentration, greater the potency of a spell. Think of it in terms of fire. A hotter fire has greater potency compared to one at a lower temperature. Am I getting my point across?"

Most of the class nodded. Some like Hermione and Daphne, had their faces scrunched in thought, trying to imbibe what the professor had just explained.

Knowing it would probably be the best response he could get for now, Moody said "I want you to read Chapter 4 from your prescribed book. It deals with magical potency and its effects on curses. Prepare a three-foot long parchment on how potency affects different curses and describe the effects on eight curses to be submitted on Monday. We shall continue our demonstration in the next class. Dismissed"

* * *

The class nodded, packed their things and slowly left. Daphne gestured to Ares that she would wait but he shook his denial and gestured her to move on. After the class was empty, Moody walked up to him.

"Two wands?" Moody asked. Both knew it wasn't a question.

Ares merely nodded in response.

Moody stared at him for a few seconds before asking "So, Black… I heard you grew up with Sirius?"

Ares just nodded.

Moody stared in contemplation. "I heard a lot many things about him after the war. About how he was Voldemort's right-hand man and how he kidnapped you."

"And what is your _opinion_ on my _father_?" Ares asked, his voice filled with ice.

"That it's all bollocks, of course." The man carried on gruffly. "I personally trained the lad on my knee. He learned his Occlumency from me, and I went through every thought in his head. If he was a DE, I'd know better than anyone."

" _You_ taught my father Occlumency?" Ares wondered aloud. Pad had never mentioned that.

"Yeah, and I still hate my decision. Your father had one hormonal cesspool of a mind." Moody replied blandly.

Ares used his Occlumency shields to fight down his mortification at the words. He really did not need to know that. "My father described you with high praises."

Moody raised an eyebrow. "He did?" His Eye flickered over Ares. "He's trained you, didn't he?" was the shrewd question. "He was one of the finest and damned best of the Aurors I trained. He and Potter. Two people with one mind. Had the highest takedown rate, the two of them. I was surprised when I heard about the claims of him being a death-eater. Dog shit, I tell you. He took down too many of them to be a part of that rascal's group."

Ares just nodded. It was good to find another person who still believed in his father.

"I saw your casting. Silent and without wand-movements, yet so very precise. You would make a damned good Auror." Moody complimented, a smile playing on his lips.

Ares blushed slightly at the praise. "Isn't it a bit early for recruiting?"

"It is never too early for recruiting." Moody answered gruffly. "Some of the newbies in the Academy are far, far worse than your display in class. Knowing that _dog_ as I do, I expect many surprises from you."

"I will try, professor." Ares replied, a light blush on his cheeks. It was nice to receive positive compliments from a man who was highly respected by Pad.

"Good. Off with you." Moody sent the boy out of the class. Walking back to his desk and sitting on his chair, he leaned his staff within drawing range on the desk. Stretching his neck to relax his muscles, he leaned back, thoughts drifting to the best pair of Aurors and friends he had ever trained and the child who appeared to be on the fast track to surpassing them. He mentally doffed his hat. _You raised a good kid, Sirius._

* * *

"What did Moody want from you?" Daphne asked as they walked down the second-floor corridor to their Charms classroom.

"Just asking about Pad." Ares shrugged and stretched his arms. "Apparently, he was the one that trained him, and still completely believes in him. A bit of trivia on Pad too"

"Oh." Daphne fell into a contemplative silence.

Ares looked up at his girlfriend. Her pink lips twitched, just like every other time when she was in deep thought. "Anything troubling you, Daph?"

Daphne nodded in denial. Ares held her right palm and lightly squeezed in reassurance that he was there for her. It was just as it had always been. They were best friends after all, and every time one of the pair were stressed or needed help, the other would hold them and extend support.

Daphne smiled at him, squeezing back in thanks. "I am alright Ares, just worried about you."

"About me?" Ares frowned in confusion.

"Yes." Daphne replied. The smile fell of her face, replaced by a quiet determination. "I know you are raising all this chaos for a reason, but you are also making enemies this way. And I-" He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off. "Let me finish. I know you are powerful and smart, but you are making enemies on both factions, and I can't help but worry about you."

"Aww! You do care!" Ares teased, hoping she would relax.

Daphne did not reply. Just a single nod, a pensive expression flitting across her face. "I'm still not convinced that revealing your ability like that is a good idea."

"Well, it wasn't in the Prophet this morning, so that means that no one has reported it, yet." Ares countered.

Daphne frowned. "It happened last night. Give it time. Maybe it will show in the news tomorrow." At the infectious grin on his face, she let out an exasperated breath. "You're betting on it, aren't you?"

"I might have a few galleons running on that with Padfoot." Ares smirked. "It's something that Pad and I had planned before arriving here. We are… carrying out an experiment."

Daphne raised her eyebrows. "An experiment?"

Ares gave her a wry grin. "You will see."

Daphne muttered something about marauders and insanity, but kept her views to herself, as she walked beside him towards the Great Hall for lunch.

* * *

The fifth years had their electives after lunch, and Ares, who hadn't taken up Arithmancy or Creatures, had seemingly vanished off after lunch. Daphne had a suspicion that he was off to a certain room on the seventh floor, but she kept it to herself. Daphne, and Theo went to the Arithmancy classroom, while Blaise and Tracey headed off to the grounds for their Care of Magical Creatures class. While Tracey was more than intelligent enough to try for Arithmancy, she hadn't chosen it because it was _boring_ , according to her. Blaise was just… Blaise.

She had just taken a seat at the front of the class when she encountered Granger.

Hermione Granger, dubbed the resident bookworm for House Gryffindor, was, perhaps, one of the most _interesting_ characters at Hogwarts. The girl had demonstrated signs of having an eidetic memory, which was probably true considering her ability to devour books upon books of magical theory right down to the page numbers, and was able to dissect the information and answer when perfectly required. The girl also had a… inexcusable tendency to appear condescending to everyone when it came to studies, alongside the Hufflepuff-ish behaviour to help others, although forced help onto others would be the correct phrase. Needless to say, the combination of two opposing qualities made her seem like a condescending, arrogant know-it-all who tried to lord her _superiority_ over others, giving people like Draco Malfoy and Ronald Weasley, essentially, complete rights to prank her to next week and back.

The first year, she had been found unconscious inside the girl's bathroom on the first floor that had been attacked and demolished by a troll which was set loose inside Hogwarts - Daphne had yet to learn who was responsible for the incident. The professors managed to defeat the troll and drive it away, but not before the infernal creature had managed to injure the girl, resulting in several weeks of recuperation in the infirmary. There was a rumour that Ronald Weasley had been involved somehow though nothing was proven. During the latter part of the school year, Granger had been hexed severely by unknown assailants, and she was seen running away across the main hallway, sobbing as she did, holding her torn bag and spoilt notes. No one knew what had happened back then, but whatever it was, it had changed the girl.

A month or so later, Draco Malfoy and his henchmen were found hanging from the chandelier in the Defence against the Dark Arts class. Strangely, Draco and his cohorts were silent about the perpetrators.

Second year, Granger was one of the muggleborns that had been attacked by the _beast from the Chamber of Secrets,_ resulting in her getting petrified for over two months. However, she and the other petrified members were restored to full health and exams had been cancelled for the year.

Third year, the girl had, _oddly,_ taken up all of the electives provided at Hogwarts, and had been present in every single class, even in classes with overlapping periods. There were rumours about her using some kind of… device to help her be at two places at once – none of the rumours proof - and Dumbledore had been very active about sweeping it all beneath the proverbial rug. Daphne had carefully stayed away, knowing better than to involve herself in matters that concerned the Headmaster. After all, the only way that Granger could possibly be at two places would be if she jumped through _Time_ itself, and that was a scary thought. Surely Albus Dumbledore wouldn't give a school-girl the means to _jump through Time_ regularly _just to take classes…._ She had tried writing about it to her father but had found an irresistible desire to _do anything else_ but ask her father about it. It had taken her a few weeks before she realised that a large-scale enchantment was preventing her from talking about her suspicions to anyone beyond the school. It scared Daphne to even think that she was under an enchantment that would do anything and everything to prevent her from letting the fact out. Understandably, Daphne had not tried to test the boundaries of the enchantment (no one had ever accused her of being a Gryffindor). Whatever was going on, she had never really found out, but there was a rumour that said girl had to be admitted to the infirmary in the last few months of the term.

Fourth year was a complete and utter mess, with the Triwizard Tournament being hosted at Hogwarts and the extra students and press and tournament officials passing through the school. Daphne had been too occupied with everything else to pay attention to the queer bookworm of Gryffindor House. However, Hermione Granger had indeed come to the spotlight once again when she attended the Yule Ball with Victor Krum of all people, and had made the front page of the Daily Prophet. The news was not without repercussions, especially since Granger had found herself being the focus of hexes from many girls. Although there was a rumour of several girls landing up in the infirmary some days later. No one had revealed anything about the perpetrators but Granger looked unusually smug.

"Greengrass?"

The bushy-haired girl's voice distracted Daphne from her thoughts, as she regarded Granger with a raised eyebrow. "Yes?"

"I was wondering if I could sit beside you for today's class." Hermione asked with slight reluctance, "—if there aren't any problems, that is."

Daphne regarded her for a moment, before nodding. "Sure." While it was a surprise, she did not have any issues with Granger sitting beside her.

Granger nodded as she sat beside Daphne, who moved towards the other end to give the other girl space to sit.

"I, uhm, also wanted to talk to you about…" She began nervously. "Well, about Black. Since you spend a lot of time together, I thought maybe you could…"

Daphne raised an eyebrow. This was _surprising._ While Granger never really asked about other people unless they demonstrated a skill she did not have or surpassed in a subject, the query could be innocent since Ares had demonstrated rather high skills in two classes. But... it was a well-known fact that she had a rather good working relationship with the Headmaster and thus, could be a tool for him to probe into Ares's life. "And what _exactly_ do you want to talk about?"

"Well," Hermione bit her lip, wondering if her query would step on Daphne's toes. While Daphne had never been a friend to her, she was one of the few people in school who did not actively shun her, hex her or treat her with spite. "I wanted to know how _you_ knew him."

Daphne was taken aback at the force in the question, but did not snap at the girl. "I have known him for a… while." She replied evasively. "But I do not see why it should matter to you."

"Oh, I was just asking." Hermione backpedalled reflexively, realising she had made a mistake. "I read about the _Boy-who-lived_ who kidnapped by Sirius Black. It was all there in _Recent Events of the twenty-first century_."

Daphne's eyes narrowed at the insult to Sirius. She knew if Granger had spoken the same words in the hearing range of Ares, her four years of bullying would seem like heaven after he was done with her. "Sirius Black _did not kidnap him_. He was his _godfather_ and, legally, had the _rights_ to Ares after the death of the Potters. He simply did what he thought was _best_ for Ares."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, deliberately ignoring the warning in Daphne's voice. "He changed his name to Ares Black. I thought that was a… insult to his parent's memory, considering that the Potters died to protect him from You-Know-Who."

"Irrelevant." Daphne countered, feeling anger rise at the… ignorance of the girl sitting next to her. "What you speak of are matters pertaining to the House of Black. And irrespective of what you or me might think, what matters is that _Harry James Potter_ is now _Ares James Black._ Would that be all?" The last words held a sharp note of warning. She was _irritated_ at the presumptuousness of Granger. Sometimes, she wondered why she didn't attend Beauxbatons, giving her a chance to get away from the incredibly-biased government of Britain and the sub-par teaching at Hogwarts.

Hermione did not miss the tone in Daphne's voice, acknowledging the clear invitation to either change the topic of the conversation… or bugger off. "Of course, I was just… interested, that's all." She paused for a moment, wondering if she should reveal what she knew. Taking a moment to decide her course, she said "I was only wondering about his… skills, considering his performance after the Transfiguration class."

"Excuse me?" Daphne asked, rather sharply.

Hermione widened her eyes. It seemed like Black hadn't mentioned it to Greengrass yet. She did not want to reveal her snooping but she had to learn about the student who seemed to effortlessly surpass her in class. "Professor McGonagall had a _duel_ with Black after that class. Black was casting silently, and using advanced conjuration and transfiguration, which is taught during NEWT education. He _couldn't possibly_ be all that advanced."

 _Ah. She was snooping after class. Should have known._ Daphne was going to have some choice words with her boyfriend when she next saw him. "Well, I suppose _Ares_ has a habit of being an over-achiever." she drawled.

"But he shouldn't be able to do that." Hermione nearly stomped her feet. "I have read all about the use of the _animatus_ charm in conjuration, and it is incredibly _difficult_." She was outright hissing at the end.

"And that is a problem, how?" Daphne challenged, regretting her choice to allow Granger to sit beside her. She should have known the girl would have been fishing for information on Ares, especially after he had trumped her efforts.

"No, I was just… _interested_ and-"

"Hey Daphne, mind if I sit here?" Daphne glanced up to see Theo standing there, the ghost of a smirk on his face. "I wanted your help in understanding Nozdrin's Derivative Folding Measures." It was impossible that Theo needed help on that topic, since he was the one to tutor Daphne on the topic the previous year.

"Uh, sure." She glanced towards Granger, who seemed to be confused. "Well, it was nice talking to you, but could you…?" She gestured to another desk, silently asking her to move.

"Oh." Granger seemed to realize Daphne's intentions. She looked up at Nott. "Nozdrin? I did read about her in _Space within Space_ and _Derivatives of Arithmancy in Charms_. Perhaps I could-"

"I think Daphne will do just fine." Theo replied, firmly denying her help.

A darker shade flashed across Hermione's eyes for a moment, before she agreed and left her seat. Theo took her seat beside Daphne.

"You are a life-saver, Theo." Daphne replied. Theo just smirked as Hermione glowered at him from two desks away.

"What was it all about?" He asked. Daphne looked quite irritated from his perch on the next desk.

" _Interrogation."_ Daphne sneered. "Probing into Ares's past and my association with him."

"Your thoughts?" Theo asked, as he passed a measuring glance towards the resident bookworm. He drew his wand and subtly cast a few privacy wards.

Daphne smiled. Behind that introvert façade, there was a ruthlessly intelligent boy in Theodore Nott. "Dumbledore's using her to probe into Ares's past."

"Oh." Theo's eyes widened before turning pensive. Looking at her, he asked, hesitation clear in his voice. "Daphne, is Ares… you know, against… the Dark Lord?"

"Joining your father, Theo?" Daphne probed back, wondering if Theo was under pressure. While Theo had no love or muggles, he was certainly not a budding Death Eater.

"Hardly." Theo waved away. "My father isn't like Lucius Malfoy. He knows and understands that my views do not align with the Dark Lord's agenda."

"Then why the question?" Daphne frowned at his reply

"My father was asking." Theo answered honestly. Much to Daphne's mirth, Theo looked indignant. She knew about the _debates_ that frequently happened between him and his father. "What? I might not agree with his politics, but I am still his son. _Harry Potter_ returning to Hogwarts is a BIG issue. I'm surprised that the reporters aren't already banging at the gates for interviews." He paused. "Ares certainly hasn't helped matters."

Daphne frowned. "Whatever Ares did, it was on purpose."

"Blaise thinks so too." Theo admitted.

"And you?"

"I think…" Theo paused to gather his words. "I think he is playing too many cards close to his chest. He might be powerful, but he hasn't been in Britain all these years. Things might turn pretty bad if he isn't careful."

Daphne had a sneaking suspicion that it was _exactly_ what Ares and his prankster of a father wanted in the first place.

"However," Theo continued, oblivious to her thoughts. "You do realize that _misdirection_ won't help you to ignore my question."

Daphne smirked.

"So… what is his position?"

"It's… complicated." Daphne returned with a small frown. "Sirius Black is against Albus Dumbledore _and_ the Dark Lord. Ares, on the other hand, is against _neither_ of them."

Theo frowned at her answer. How could he not be against either manipulator? Unless… "You mean-"

"Ares truly doesn't care about what's going on Britain, and wouldn't care even if Dumbledore, the Dark Lord and the Minister go to a shed and had an orgy with goats." Daphne smirked at the disgusted expression on Theo's face. "But he will come down on anyone that hurt the people close to him. And he will come down with overwhelming force."

Theo thought on her words. "His loved ones… Sirius Black, and you?"

Daphne blushed. "I like to think so."

"Interesting." Theo commented, knowing Daphne's doubts were for naught. "The _Boy-who-lived_ , Heir of the Houses of Potter and Black, Parselmouth and the Lord of Slytherin… and _Neutral_ at that. I suppose Black will be taking up seats at the Wizengamot in the September session then?"

"I really… couldn't say." Daphne answered carefully, not wanting to commit to any answer

"Noted." Theo countered. "My father will be interested to know that."

Daphne cocked her head in thought. "Isn't that like sending the information to the Dark Lord?"

"Not really." Theo corrected with a frown. "My father has been a financial supporter of the Dark Lord, not an active Death Eater, despite the… _Mark_." He frowned distastefully at the word. He was disgusted about the fact that _proud pureblood Lords_ would stoop so low as to allow themselves to be marked like slaves. "He is intelligent enough to understand that his… _investment_ … in the Dark Lord's campaign has been a loss to the Nott fortune."

"It wouldn't matter when the Dark Lord returns though, would it?" Daphne asked. "Your father would have to support him."

"Not if he already has several… contingencies in place. Given the tide of events, I can hope for some surprises." Theo grinned.

Daphne fell into contemplation as Professor Vector walked into class, wondering if Ares and Sirius were expecting these reactions. And supressed a shudder at what they had planned for Britain. She knew one thing for certain, Britain would not be the same once the two were done. _Why did I fall in love with a Marauder?_ Giving herself a firm mental shake to clear her head, she began writing down the points dictated by the professor.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: (22-12-2017) ever wonder how much you can write before you tire… Not me. I've got pages to go and words to write.**

 **Skadarken: Oh, hell! The guy's on a sugar rush.**

 **Nah! Just a bottle or two. Or was that three? No, wait. I remember there being four, but didn't I have five….**

 **Skadarken: Moving on. What your thoughts on our attempt at giving voice to other member of our cast? Do share them. There's a review box big enough to take your opinions.**

 **I GOT IT! It was seven on seven. Good. No worries, people. I'm alright. Just wondering if I should pair Albus and Bella together. Do you guys think it's a good pairing? Or should I go with Voldemort and Tonks?**

 **Skadarken: RUN! Save your sanity. Mind bleach won't help you guys if you stay.**

 **Hey, Skadarken. What do you thi-**

 ***Due to technical issues, the chapter has been uploaded with an incomplete AN.***


	9. Wizengamot Slam-dunk

**WARNING: All of those you who were looking for the changes and, for those who were bemoaning about the rewrite, it begins here. While we have retained a few elements, we have changed the original work by a majority.**

The next morning, the five Slytherins entered in the Great Hall for breakfast. Unlike the usual hustle and bustle that was the norm during breakfast in the hall, there was a rather scary silence through the room. The moment he group of five stood at the entrance, several heads in the hall turned in their direction. Even the teachers were staring at them. Several occupants of the hall were pointing fingers or whispering to their friends.

"It seems like the news finally reached the Daily Prophet." Daphne drawled slowly. All of them had the newspaper in front of them or were reading it over the shoulders of the people beside them. Sometimes, she hated it when she was right. And her boyfriend's nonchalance about the situation wasn't helping.

"Look at this way." Theo said to Black, a wry smile on his face. "It's simply establishing the reputation you wanted."

"You would be right." Ares muttered back, staring at the crowd that seemed transfixed on him. He wondered if the news was really that graphic.

Without any further ado, the group of friends walked past the Ravenclaw table towards the table of green and silver, past the smirking face of Draco Malfoy and ignoring the rather smug look on Pansy Parkinson.

Taking their usual places, with Daphne sitting beside Ares on his left and Blaise on his right, Tracey and Theo occupying places opposite to them. Ares could feel the stares of the Great Hall converging on his person. There was a slight movement as Draco Malfoy casually walked up to Ares, dropping the morning issue of the Prophet right in front of him. He edged closer to Ares until he was right next to his left ear, whispering "Enjoy!" before returning to his place, a smile of victory plastered on his face.

Ares, Daphne and Blaise looked at the newspaper while Tracey and Theo borrowed a copy from the student beside them. Written on the front page, in glaringly large font, were the words:

 **BOY-WHO-LIVED REVEALED AS PARSELMOUTH!**

 **SIGNS OF AN UPCOMING DARK LORD?**

 **Hearing the latest events happening at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has left the people of Magical Britain traumatized and shocked, as their very own** _ **Boy-who-lived,**_ **our former saviour who returned to the shores of Britain after disappearing on the night of Halloween 1981, publicly revealed himself to be a Parselmouth, much to the shock and terror of the students of Hogwarts themselves. For our readers do not know understanding the meaning of this, Parselmouth is the ability of a Dark wizard to talk to snakes. You-Know-Who was the last known Dark Lord to possess it.**

 **Harry James Potter, born to James and Lily Potter and famous for his victory against the Dark Lord You-Know-Who back in 1981, was a name known to every single resident of Magical Britain. Unfortunately, the** _ **Boy-who-lived**_ **had been kidnapped by Sirius Black, who is the son of Orion and Walburga Black - the last surviving descendant of a family notorious for dabbling with the Dark Arts. There had been rumours about Black's allegiance to the Dark Lord, although they were dismissed because of the lack of evidence. Despite the measures taken by the Ministry of Magic, our beloved saviour was never found.**

 **And now, after fourteen years, the residents of Magical Britain are fearful. Was he really our saviour? Harry Potter - who** _ **insists**_ **on being addressed as** _ **Ares Black**_ **, blatantly disregarding the contribution of James and Lily Potter to our society - very publicly revealed himself as a Parselmouth soon after arriving at Hogwarts at the start of the school year.**

 **Pansy Parkinson, Heiress of the Noble House of Parkinson claimed, "Black used Dark Magic to conjure a serpent, and then ordered it using Parseltongue to attack us. Many of us were traumatized; Black just stood there and laughed at our misery." Miss Parkinson's statement was seconded by Draco Lucius Malfoy, son of Wizengamot member and famous philanthropist Lucius Abraxas Malfoy.**

 **However, even before this blatant display of Dark Magic, Ares Black had transformed into a large, black cat and pounced on Ronald Weasley, son of famous muggleborn-supporter and Ministry worker Arthur Weasley. While Arthur Weasley has refused to comment, Molly Weasley, wife of Arthur Weasley and mother of victim Ronald Weasley, has been quite vocal about Ares Black being a** _ **danger**_ **to students, and demanded the** _ **outright expulsion**_ **of** _ **Ares Black**_ **from Hogwarts** _ **.**_ **The victim, Ronald Weasley, was admitted to the Hogwarts infirmary, to heal his broken arms and bruised body, the result of the vicious attack by Ares Black in his** _ **dangerous**_ **animagus form. The chief question that remains now is whether Hogwarts School will expel Ares Black, or will the people live in fear as the next Dark lord slowly rises over Magical Britain.**

"Damn! She does have a rather blatant approach in her opinions, don't you think?" Ares genially asked his girlfriend, who was outright scowling as she registered what that damnable hussy, Rita Skeeter had written about her boyfriend.

Tracey too was scowling at her copy while Theo seemed pensive at the news. Blaise seemed to be trying too hard not to laugh at the so-called newspaper, passing an amused glance towards Ares.

"This is going to have extremely huge repercussions." Daphne glanced at Ares, her lips forming a troubled frown. Frown deepening at the calm look on his face, she turned back to the newspaper, the next article on the page catching her eye. Her eyes widened at the title of the article. " _What the hell?_ "

 **LUCIUS MALFOY ACCUSES ARES BLACK OF LINE THEFT**

 **Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, Wizengamot member and famous philanthropist, filed an official complaint against Ares James Black, son of Lily and James Potter, for Line Theft of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. When the Daily Prophet received reports on the complaint, we travelled to Malfoy manor in New Hampshire to ascertain the truth. Lucius Malfoy (43), Lord of the Noble House of Malfoy commented, "My son Draco Lucius is the rightful Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. My wife Narcissa Druella Malfoy nee Black, is the youngest daughter of Cygnus Black and Druella Crabbe nee Black, and the only remaining descendant of the Black family." Lord Malfoy went on to state how Sirius Orion Black, son of Orion Arcturus Black and Walburga Cedrella Black, was disinherited from the Black family back in 1976. With the rest of the Black family either dead, or in prison, (with the exception of Andromeda Tonks who was disinherited in 1972), and the death of the previous Lord Black, Arcturus Orion Black, in the year 1981, the mantle of Lord Black falls upon young Draco Lucius, the scion of Lord Lucius Malfoy, who shall inherit the estate upon his coming of-age.**

 **Lucius Malfoy went on to say, "Whether Ares Black is misinformed or is intentionally trying to usurp my son's inheritance is uncertain. But, Ares Black has shamed my son and made a mockery of his inheritance in public. I have filed an official complaint against Ares Black and have moved for his arrest and trial to be presided by the Wizengamot. I also demand a public apology from Black to my son Draco Lucius in public, both for his vile attempt at Line Theft and the insult to my son. The degree of his transgressions will be judged by an emergency session of the Wizengamot that is to be held tomorrow."**

 **For more information on Sirius Black and his history, visit Page 3.**

 **For more information on Ares Black, his Houses and his parentage, visit Page 2.**

 **For more information on the Black Family, both living and dead, visit page 4.**

Daphne held the paper tightly, enough that the nails dug into it. Those…Those…Those _morons_. Not only do they have the gall to insult her boyfriend, his father, make him out to be a Dark Lord, and do everything short of blatantly screaming out "DARK LORD, RUN FOR YOUR SOULS", _Lucius-Fucking-Malfoy_ accuses Ares, Heir Apparent of the House of Black, of Line Theft of said house. For a moment, she wondered if there were assassins she could hire to wipe out the Malfoy line. The thought nearly made her giggle with morbid humour.

Reading the article and watching Daphne's reactions to the article on Line Theft caused Blaise to muffle his laughter into the sleeve of his robe. He decided he was going to sit back and watch the upcoming _comedy_ , or should he say _tragedy_ , in the near future.

Watching her friend in distress made Tracey want to hex the ever-loving snot out of Malfoy. Only the fact that Theo was murmuring calming words in her ears kept her in her seat.

"Whenever you are ready, Black." Draco drawled out from his seat. His voice carried over the whispers of the hall. "Any time now would be good, just make sure that the apology is perfect." He smirked. "Or I might add slander and assault to the charges as well. Wouldn't want to miss anything, would we?

Theo had to physically restrain Tracey from attacking the blond. Blaise smirked at Malfoy. The rest of the hall had fallen silent at the words, waiting and watching. The teachers seemed rooted to their chairs, unable to interfere in the business of a Noble and Most Ancient House.

"Are you happy?" Daphne hissed to her boyfriend, his nonchalance driving her mad. It took everything she had not to prove Malfoy right by cursing the fool. "I knew it would create a mess."

"Then why did you support it if you already knew it would be a mess?" Tracey countered it from the opposite side at the table. Theo had his over her shoulders, holding her down.

"I didn't know it would be this big of a mess." Daphne hissed back, glaring at her friend.

"Enough!" Ares commanded. "It is under control."

Daphne had a few choice words to refute back but the stern gaze of her boyfriend stopped her midway.

"This is what I wanted. This is _exactly_ what I wanted." Her boyfriend muttered before he stood up from the table.

"Already?" Draco laughed cruelly. "I must admit; you are rather… quick at it. Were your parents all that _quick_ at dying when the Dark Lord came for them?"

The student body took in a collective breath at the words, several Heirs of the "Light" houses glaring at the blond, a few "Dark" houses smirking at the insult to the "Saviour". McGonagall was outright glaring at Malfoy and she stood up to berate him for the disrespect to her former students.

 _Shit._ Daphne shut her eyes. As much as she resented the blond idiot, she wasn't ready to see his intestines dangling out, while having breakfast.

 _Three._

 _Two._

 _One._

"Good one, Malfoy." The hall, and McGonagall, stood in shock at Ares' words. They were expecting everything from curses flying to a fist-fight. They were _not_ expecting a lack of vitriol from the person who the insults were directed towards.

The lack of spite in her boyfriend's voice surprised Daphne, as she opened her eyes. Malfoy was still in one piece, and his intestines weren't crawling on the floor. Armageddon had not occurred and everyone was still on their seats. Before she could ponder over the impossibility of it all, Ares spoke again.

"You know… if there is one thing that's proven about me… and Daphne here can attest to it… it's that you can always count on me to have _fun_."

With that enigmatic statement, Ares Black deserted the Great Hall, leaving Draco somewhat confused and staring at Daphne, who ducked to hide her flaming red face. Blaise and Theo were holding in their laughter while Tracey's cheeks pinked. The rest of the hall was stupefied.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was having a mug of hot chocolate in his office, his phoenix familiar perched on the perch on his desk. Like most days, he preferred having breakfast in his office, except when his presence was required in the Great Hall for important feasts or giving out important notices.

Seated in the privacy of his office, he didn't have to maintain any of his masks and could drink his hot chocolate, the scent of the drink and the quiet of the morning giving him one of the few moments of peace in a rather hectic life filled with politics, enemies and Dark Lords. He didn't heed to the post owl flocking its wings, shipping the day's newspaper. Knowing the Daily Prophet, it would either be something inconsequential or more of Cornelius's blustering denials over Voldemort's resurrection. He did not want to remind himself why he let Cornelius be the Minister of Magic. Sniffing the aroma of the hot chocolate, he allowed a tiny smile to appear on his lips.

His eyes unconsciously flickered to the day's headlines, wandering over the page, absently marvelling at the useless propaganda that the Prophet had printed, and which the public ate up like apple pies, and which brought a humorous smile to his lips. Closing his eyes, he continued to sip the chocolate, the smile still playing on his lips. At an extremely slow pace, his mind finally registered what he had read, and then processed it again. He froze for a second. The thought finally coalesced in his mind and the revelation had his heart jump a beat. His eyes popped as he spewed hot chocolate onto his desk. Fawkes squawked in irritation as he flew up, vanishing in flames in an attempt to get rid of the sticky substance that had fallen over his feathers. Throwing her mug aside, he focused his eyes on the paper.

 **BOY-WHO-LIVED REVEALED AS PARSELMOUTH!**

 **SIGNS OF AN UPCOMING DARK LORD?**

"Damn! Damn that boy!" He cursed loudly, before snatching the paper and reading it. The more he did, the more his knuckles turned white, eyes widening in shock and surprise as his carefully laid plans were laid to dust. _Harry Potter_ was a… beacon to be used against Tom Riddle. The prophecy ensured that Harry Potter was the best chance against Tom, and now Harry being a Parselmouth was going to…

 _Wait… A Parselmouth? How did Harry Potter turn out to be a-?_

A theory of his flitting through his mind brought all his other thoughts to a screeching halt. A nominal theory he formed two years ago after the discovery of the Diary, his memory of the investigation of Potter Cottage on that Halloween night and later proven to be correct by dint of furious research after Tom's resurrection was now proving to be true. After realising the diary was a _Horcrux_ , he assumed it was the anchor holding to the land of the living and his spirit must have passed on. However, his sudden resurrection the previous year had blown that theory out of the water. A month of desperate research after the event had provided a spine-chilling answer. He had spent quite some time, trying to prove himself wrong before deciding it was a fool's errand. To this day, he did not understand how anyone would be foolish enough to shred their soul to pieces, to achieve a faux-immortality that was far worse than death. Still, his current thoughts did not grant him peace.

 _Could… Harry Potter… truly be one of them?_

Ever since he had reached the epiphany about Tom Riddle having created a horcrux as an anchor to the mortal world, he spent an extensive amount of time studying the subject. Horcruxes, were one of the very few applications of _soul magic_ known in the modern world,a field in which he had barely _dabbled in_. Even for a wizard who spent over a hundred and fifty years in the pursuit of arcane arts, soul magic was… _iffy,_ for lack of a better word, especially considering its highly esoteric roots, the number of fields involved in study of said concept and it's rather… flexible nature.

Under secrecy oaths, Albus had consulted his contacts all over the world for the last two years and despite his attempts, there was barely enough information on the subject. Many civilisations considered souls to be sacred and the gift of the gods. This had the unintended consequence of shunning studies that attempted to manipulated such. To the best of his knowledge, there were five known civilisations or families that studied the soul arts and four of them were no longer around and much of their knowledge was lost to the ages. The concept of _Horcruxes,_ like most soul magic lore, originated in the lines of the Egyptian Pharaohs and, to his best knowledge, there was only one magical family that had access to said Egyptian lore.

The House of Black.

 _It is rather unfortunate that Cassiopeia Black is dead. That woman was a literal library about the Egyptian arts._ Dumbledore thought with a frown.

From what little he had found, it was clear that a horcrux was a way to prevent death, although the ritual did not promise immortality. It was more of a form of insurance, something that prevented the soul from ascending to the realms beyond after the death of their physical body. The soul would remain attached to the world of the living in the form of a wraith, and could be resurrected using some extremely shady blood rituals which did not come without their own share of costs and concerns. A wizard or witch with a horcrux would, technically, have to change bodies after a time period and live on, a form of _pseudo-immortality_. To create a horcrux, one needed to perform a ritual that included cold-blooded murder, and while Albus understood ambition, it was more than his cup of tea. There was a reason after all, that even the _Magick Moste Evile_ quoted: _**"Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction…."**_

It reminded him of the legend of an ancient artefact, notoriously known as the _Ring of Gyges,_ a ring made of pure gold, and engraved with Egyptian Hieroglyphs. Supposedly, the ring was able to grant the wearer a form of cursed immortality.

He had had to refer to another tome, perhaps the most dangerous tome of all times - a book that was made of materials steeped so heavily in malicious magic that he had to touch it wearing silk gloves replaced every hour - _Secrets of the Darkest Art,_ and it was here that he had found the steps to create a horcrux. While incredibly fascinating to the intellectual part of him, the process repulsed him severely. Even _Gellert Grindelwald_ hadn't taken such drastic steps to ensure _his_ own immortality, he thought with a _strange_ frown on his face. For Tom Riddle to have possessed the disposition to create horcruxes, it must have originated from a potent combination of paranoia, an overwhelming fear of death and desperation.

There was one small problem. His research into soul magic had not turned up a single theory or even a thought about using a human being as a horcrux, since the problem of _two souls_ residing in the same body was too… inexplicable. For one, having a human horcrux was a terrible decision, especially since the human could die, thus destroying, not just the purpose of the ritual, but also the extracted soul shard. Even if the human survived, there was no definite explanation for how the soul shard would affect the host. Would it dominate it, and if not, would the human soul be, at the very least, influenced by the soul shard? Also, there was the matter that unlike objects, a human horcrux was susceptible to the natural methods of death, thus destroying the very purpose a horcrux was made for.

His thoughts went back to the night of Halloween 1981. The night was filled with unprecedented events, and arcane, powerful magic had been at work. Magic that Albus Dumbledore had never even felt before in his long and fulfilling life. The Magical signature of two killing curses tied to Tom was very distinct, and one body on the floor of the nursery.

The lifeless body of Lily Potter and the tattered cloak of Tom himself.

The only probable theory he had had all these years was that after killing Lily Potter with the killing curse, Tom had proceeded to cast it a second time at an infant Harry. _Something_ had reflected the killing curse back towards Tom. After much deliberation, Albus had arrived at three different possibilities.

The first was that James and Lily Potter had set a trap against Voldemort as a failsafe. Albus had studied about some shady rituals that could have provided protection by sacrifice of one's blood.

The second was that Lily Potter had achieved the same effect through other means. After all, the girl wasn't just an ordinary muggleborn. It wasn't well known, but Lily Potter had been an Unspeakable working in the Experimental Spell-work division. Could it be possible that the prodigy had come up with something powerful enough to reflect the killing curse?

The third, and possibly least viable option, was that little Harry Potter, Albus thought with a scowl, was responsible for reflecting the killing curse towards Tom, through some form of raw manipulation of magic. Albus had seen the baby Potter, and observed him carefully since his birth. While the infant did show promise of becoming a powerful wizard, there was nothing…. _extraordinary_ about him.

However, now there were far direr concerns at hand. The more pressing concern was whether the _reflected_ curse was powerful enough to shred Tom's own soul – a soul which had, possibly, been split multiple times by that fateful Halloween night and if a piece of Tom's soul was now inside Harry.

Retrieving his Pensieve, Albus sunk deep into his memory of that night, and just as he remembered it, the events that night was rather peculiar. For one, why was it that Lily Potter, who had fought the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange to a standstill on multiple occasions, did not have her wand on her person? It was almost as if she _didn't want to use it in the first place_. There was also the…. _stench_ of blood magic in the nursery, the cradle being the epicentre of the residue.

Could it be that Lily Potter had performed obscure blood magic to protect her child against the person who killed her? Albus knew enough of rituals to understand that it was a feasible attempt. Although why a protection so powerful would _allow_ a foreign soul shard to enter Harry Potter in the first place was impossible to fathom.

It was difficult. Very difficult. On one hand, the Parseltongue ability and the _eerie_ similarity to Tom Riddle brought forth theories about Harry Potter being a horcrux, or at least possessing a shard, of Tom Riddle. On the other hand, his knowledge of magical theory and the esoteric arts spitefully discarded such a concept, since it made Harry Potter the last person to host a shard of Riddle's soul.

Albus let out a strangled noise out of frustration.

Then there was the Prophecy to consider. For the moment, his paranoia wanted him to consider the theory of the boy being a horcrux. While it was only a theory, it did provide _some_ answers, but then again, it opened a whole new vault of questions.

For starters, how had the soul shard inside Harry Potter affected him? And importantly, how much control did it have over him? How much of Harry was Harry and not Tom Riddle? He recalled the recent meeting he had with the boy in his office. The casual arrogance, the confidence and the demonstration of power - It was eerily similar to Tom Riddle. Briefly, he wondered if Sirius Black knew about the horcrux, and if not, if the horcrux was now controlling Harry Potter himself. It would justify the casual demonstration of violence, and the Parseltongue ability he so easily wielded. But that brought forth another troubling question- how many horcruxes did Tom Riddle actually create to anchor himself to the mortal world?

 _I have got homework. A lot of homework. I need to assess if Harry Potter is indeed Riddle's horcrux, and if he is, how has the soul shard affected him…_

His eyes flickered towards the newspaper, noticing the other front page article before he banged the newspaper on his table, swearing out profanely.

* * *

In front of the large iron gates leading to Hogwarts, the area was brimming with people, reporters from the Prophet, Quibbler and a variety of international news agencies. The story about the return of the Boy-who-lived to Britain and his attendance of Hogwarts had made the front page of the Daily Prophet. The _Line Theft_ accusation on a famous celebrity, who also happened to be the Heir to a Noble and Most Ancient House in Britain, had captured the interest of several international news agencies. There was no precedent in history when a _Noble House_ had accused a _Noble and Most Ancient House_ of Line Theft. The Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge had called in an emergency Wizengamot session to address the issue, and Hogwarts found itself host to hordes of people trying to barge through its gates.

The students on the grounds, near the Quidditch pitch, and watching from windows from the fourth floor and above could see the commotion at the gates, as the horde of reporters and other personnel tried to get past the half-giant gamekeeper Rubeus Hagrid, who was doing all he could to keep everyone away. The commotion had attracted the attention of the other Professors who could be seen approaching the entrance hall. The students near the entrance of the castle and on the grounds went silent as the Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall walked past them, heading to the gates and the horde and noise beyond it.

Opening the gates and glaring balefully at the reporters who had redoubled their efforts to get past Hagrid upon seeing her, she spoke in a voice that drowned out the noise. "Somebody will explain to me what is happening." Her anger caused her Scottish accent to thicken. "Immediately."

While the reporters stopped pushing Hagrid, futilely, at her words, they immediately converged on her like scavengers.

"Deputy Headmistress, is it true that there is an arrest warrant against Harry Potter?" One of the men, whose robes looked near muggle, spoke in an American accent. At McGonagall's raised eyebrows, he clarified, "Kurt Clove, from The Herald."

The Transfiguration professor glared at everyone present in front of her. They had the gall to think of a fifteen-year old student, a boy who spent the last fifteen years away from his place of birth, as a criminal. It incensed her. Activating a _sonorous_ charm around her, she said "This is Hogwarts, a _school_." She heavily stressed the word. "Students come here to learn about magic. No _criminals_ attend our halls. We have received no information warranting any kind of action against Ares Black. Unless we receive an official notice from the DMLE, the matter is now closed. On my authority as Deputy Headmistress, I will have to ask you to leave-"

"That won't be necessary, Minerva."

The sudden voice distracted her, as she tried to look over the heads of the reporters. The crowd in front of her parted to allow the new arrivals walk past them. A group of three walked in the middle, flanked by six people wearing Auror robes who kept the reporters at bay.

The portly man in the middle wore an ocean-blue suit, a deep green tie, a black bowler hat, pointed black shoes and a gold pocket watch dangled from his waist. His grey hair was slightly rumpled and his expression seemed to be filled with self-importance.

To the right, was a pale-faced man with blond hair and grey eyes wearing green robes made of acromantula silk and carried a cane decorated with a snake-head motif. He walked with arrogance and controlled power in his gait.

A woman walked to the left of the portly man. She possessed stern features softened by curves, flame-red hair tied up in a bun and a monocle on her right eye. She wore a sharp blue suit and dragon-hide boots and was surrounded by an aura of confidence. However, her expression appeared to be of a person who did not like what they were tasked with.

Upon seeing the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, Lucius Malfoy and Head of the DMLE, Amelia Bones, walking between them, the reporters began firing questions at them. Bones and Lucius ignored them while Fudge simply replied with a smile. The six aurors flanking them wore frim expressions.

The newly arrived group stepped around Hagrid while the aurors moved to stand guard beside Hagrid, to prevent the reporters from rushing in.

Fudge waved at the reporters before turning towards McGonagall and said "We are here to see that justice is given out properly."

Lucius and Amelia stood in silence, the former held a cruel smile while the latter appeared pained at the words.

"What is going on, Cornelius?"

Everyone focused on the gates as Albus Dumbledore walked towards the four-member group. Ignoring the clicks and flashes of the camera, Dumbledore put his palm out and the reporters immediately silenced themselves. Fudge and Lucius appeared to be quite put out at his appearance.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, Rita Skeeter from the Daily Prophet," A woman spoke out. She had curly blonde hair with a rather large glasses on her face and a garish red robe. "What are your comments on Hogwarts harbouring a criminal?"

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I have read the accusations printed on the Daily Prophet this morning, and there is only one thing that I would like to say. _Harry Potter_ is no criminal, and certainly not a budding Dark Wizard. He is-"

"Do you deny that he nearly killed the youngest Weasley scion?" Another member of the press cut him off.

Dumbledore tightened his fist at the words. "Whatever happened between Mister Potter and Mister Weasley has been resolved. There is no further need to address any concerns regarding-"

"Are you talking about the same person who attacked the Slytherin students using Dark Magic?" Rita pressed. She had finally found a scoop on the Boy-Who-Lived and had no wish to miss it.

"There was no Dark Magic used at Hogwarts. Parseltongue is an ability that gets manifested-"

"I believe I can answer your questions." Fudge cut in before Dumbledore could finish his words. "Lucius here can safely address your concerns while I can talk with the Headmaster over the issues we face." The man laughed as if talking about his Christmas Party, before turning to Dumbledore. "Albus, if you please?"

Dumbledore smiled blandly. "I think we should take this to the office."

Turning towards Amelia Bones, Fudge addressed her. "Amelia, please make sure that _Harry Potter_ stays within reach. We will need him in custody as soon as I finish _discussing_ with Albus."

Amelia Bones forced a smile on her face. Turning to a dark-skinned auror, she said "Shacklebolt, please go with Professor McGonagall to get Mister Potter." She turned towards the old Professor, "Deputy Headmistress, if you please?"

Minerva nodded after a moment, before she swiftly spun around and walked back in, the auror following soon after. Cursing herself for being unable to do anything for her godson's child once again, she sped towards the entrance to the school.

* * *

"Ares James Black!" Daphne ranted, "are you happy with what happened? I told you not to do it, but you just _had to_ show off back then. Didn't you?"

After breakfast, the group of friends had split up, Daphne and Ares returning to his room in their dorms. Daphne had taken to pacing the room while Ares sat cross-legged on the floor. His security snake had curled up below the bed when Ares had placed his white wand in a secure compartment in his trunk. It wouldn't do him any good if the Aurors had even more charges to pile on him.

"Daph, please stay calm. It's all under control." He countered softly, sitting in a meditative trance as he ignored the strides of his angry girlfriend.

"The press is here. The Minister and Lucius Malfoy are actively working for your arrest. They wouldn't be so confident about it all if they weren't sure. The Aurors are going to fucking arrest you!" She was outright yelling at the end.

Ares opened a single eye. "Daph, do you remember about all of this being an experiment?"

Daphne's eyes twitched dangerously. "What is this fucking experiment? Tell me. Tell me NOW!"

Ares smirked. "Just testing what happens when an overwhelming force meets an immovable object."

"What?" Daphne narrowed her eyes to the point that they were almost slits. She hated it when her boyfriend spoke in riddles. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

Ares chuckled. "You will see."

"But Ares, Lucius Malfoy is claiming _line theft_ against you. They wouldn't dare it until they were sure they had some grounds…"

"The grounds are that the moron of a Minister believes in every word Lucius utters. And that Lucius believes the information to be true."

"What do yo-"

"Have you heard of the Selective Attention experiment? The muggles are very good at this kind of-" Ares lectured, ignoring the fact that his girlfriend was resembling a fire-breathing dragon with every passing second.

A knock on the door interrupted his explanation.

"Come in." Ares replied calmly. All of Daphne's words were stuck in her throat as she recognised the people who entered the door. One of them was an auror.

Professor McGonagall and Auror Shacklebolt stood in the entrance.

"How may I help you, Professor?" Ares asked cheerfully.

"Mister... Black, Auror Shacklebolt is here to… to take you in custody." The usually stern Headmistress replied in a broken voice. "Please follow him out."

"Oh." Ares answered. "Do you mind if I take a minute? I have an unfinished business." He got up from the floor and pulled out an envelope from his robes. Handing the envelope to Daphne, he muttered. "You know what to do with it."

Daphne fought against the tear threatening to fall from her left eye, as she nodded, before turning to glare at the Auror balefully. "Ares is innocent."

"I am only following orders, Miss." Shacklebolt answered. Turning to Ares, he replied, "I knew your fathers… both of them. It might not matter, but… I believe in you."

"Thank you." Ares smiled.

"I was a rookie when Sirius Black was promoted to a Senior Auror position. I learnt a lot from him back then, and I cannot see his… son doing something so… disgraceful as Line theft." Kingsley said, a soothing smile on his face

Ares smiled again. "You have wonderful instincts, Auror…?"

"Shacklebolt. Kingsley Shacklebolt." The man helped. "If that is the case, why are you….?" The question remained unasked as Ares gave him a lop-sided grin.

"Everything will be revealed in due time, Auror Shacklebolt." Turning to Daphne, Ares moved closer to her until his lips were touching her ear. "Always remember, Ares Black _always_ has a plan."

He turned back to face the Auror. "I am ready."

* * *

It had been an hour since Ares Black, or as the rest of Britain knew him, Harry Potter, was publicly arrested and taken into DMLE custody. Despite the litany of attempts on the Headmaster's part to prevent the outcome, the Minister had refused to rescind the order. Fudge told him, in no uncertain terms, that the boy would be placed under arrest, and had asked Amelia Bones to do it herself. The stern-looking woman did not speak a single word as she had placed magic-restraining handcuffs on Ares, before side-along apparating him to the DMLE. Surprising them all, Ares had been calm and composed through the ordeal. Rather than being arrested, he acted like he would receiving an Order of Merlin at the Ministry, an attitude than angered Fudge and Lucius and brought a quick smile and questioning glance on the face of the stern DMLE Head.

Tracey and Theodore, holding hands, walked across Slytherin common room, ignoring the taunts and kissy-faces that Malfoy was directing towards them. The rest of the common room stayed silent at the display.

Before Ares had entered the castle, Malfoy held the dominant position inside Slytherin House. Upon the first day of school, Ares had soundly brought down Malfoy from his position of power, causing a massive power shift within the House and humiliating Malfoy. Now, Malfoy looked like a kid with his favourite presents on Christmas as the news of Ares' arrest spread across the castle.

Reaching the fifth-year dorms, the couple entered Daphne's room and found her lying face down on the bed.

The space expansion charm on the room and various transfigurations and wards present were stabilised using a Futhark rune cluster. A large bed occupied the wall on the right, while a couch, two chairs and a coffee table occupied space near the left wall. Two study desks and desk-chairs stood beside each other on the wall opposite the door. A bag on the right desk while parchment, quills, ink bottles and three books filled were arranged on the desks.

Tracey sat down on the bed beside Daphne and caressed her hair, as Theo occupied a position on the couch. Blaise was already present in the room, sitting in the chair beside Theo and reading an article from Transfiguration Weekly.

"She's been like that since they took him away." Blaise commented offhandedly without looking at the other two. "She is convinced that her _Slytherin_ boyfriend has acted like a _Gryffindor_ and gotten outwitted."

"But… why did Ares do like that? I mean… we all know that Sirius Black was disinherited from the family by his mother in 1976. It was a rather big news back then, and she had named Narcissa Black's unborn child as the Black Heir." Tracey mumbled. "When Daphne told us that he was the Black heir, we thought…"

"Ares is the Black heir." Blaise commented, the magazine he held hiding his expression from view.

"Then why would-" Tracey retorted confusedly but Theo cut her midway.

"I think Black is playing Lucius Malfoy, if-" His eyes glanced towards Blaise, "-Ares is truly the Black heir."

"Okay, Zabini. Spill out." Daphne demanded. She had turned around upon hearing Blaise' comment about Ares and was glaring at him, twin fires replacing her eyes.

Blaise smirked as he placed his magazine on the table. "You forget that my family has holdings in Bulgaria. Almost anyone of importance there knows the Lord Black. Sirius Black _is_ the _Lord Black_ , regardless of what Malfoy would like everyone to believe."

"Wait… _what?"_ Tracey demanded. This was news to her, especially since it was the very thing at the heart of the arrest and had her best friend close to tears. "So why didn't Ares just-you know, prove his innocence?"

Theo snorted in realisation. "That _bastard_!" Seeing Daphne and Tracey direct indignant stares towards him, he cracked again. "He is playing them for fools. The Wizengamot is in for a rude awakening tomorrow."

More Staring.

"Okay." Theo leaned forward, arms braced on the coffee table. "Remember what he said to Malfoy earlier in the Great Hall?"

"That he can be trusted to…. have fun." Tracey repeated. Thinking through the words, the realisation finally dawned on her. "You mean… he is… _waiting_?"

"Laying a trap, more like." Blaise answered for Theo. "I can expect a couple of fun-filled weeks." Giving them one last smirk, he picked up his magazine and went back to his reading.

Theo sat back in thought while Tracey stared at her best friend who looked like she would like nothing better than to tear her boyfriend limb from limb.

* * *

The DMLE prison was remarkably neat – Well… compared to what Sirius had told him about Azkaban. The cell was rather spacious, with a single rickety wooden chair and a bed for a prisoner to sleep on. Then again, sleeping in a prison cell had been the last thing he had planned to do when he decided to be a part of his father's prank and return to Great Britain.

 _I am so getting Padfoot to buy me new toys for this._

When he had arrived at Hogwarts, he had left the entirety of his… collection at home. The only thing that he had brought with him was his bottomless mokeskin pouch which held his trunk and several trinkets alongside his broom – a Firebolt, an international Quidditch standard broom. His life with Sirius had been a wild Nargle chase most of the time, visiting new places, meeting new people, exploring legends and collecting artefacts and odd trinkets. Even his pet adder Scylla was left at the Manor, since Padfoot was uncertain if Scylla would be able to survive the fear-driven population of Wizarding Britain.

 _Idiotic morons._ Sometimes, he wondered if the witches and wizards of Britain lost their brains since the Statute of Secrecy was established. _Or did they lose it after the fall of Avalon itself…?_

Back to the plan. A ridiculous idea that had germinated in Prank Lord Padfoot's mind when they had received notification about Ares having to return to Hogwarts for finishing his OWLS and NEWTS, a mandatory requirement needed to ascend to his seat at the Wizengamot. And the plan had been revealed during the week before he came to Hogwarts

 _ **"Run it by me again. Why I need to go to Hogwarts? I can study by myself and take the OWL's from the Ministry directly, can't I?" Ares asked petulantly, pouting at his father.**_

 _ **"Harry…" Heaving a sigh, Sirius sat in front of him.**_

 _ **Father and son were seated on the loveseat in the living room. The living room was flanked by a large floor-to-ceiling window occupying an entire wall, overlooking the garden in front of the manor. The walls were painted in an azure blue with black accents and the ceiling was a peach white with an elaborate crystal chandelier lit with color-changing charms. A large coffee table occupied the centre of the room with a large sofa facing the window and two loveseats on either side of the table. The fireplace roared in the corner to keep out the chilly Bulgarian weather.**_

 _ **Sirius leaned back onto the arm of the loveseat and clasped his hands in his lap. "Ten years ago, you could do that. But with the recent laws of the Ministry, it is paramount that you should take them at Hogwarts. I think Dumbledore framed this law in order to get you back to Britain; especially since no other Ancient House lives abroad."**_

 _ **"Well, he has succeeded then!" Ares complained, a frown marring his face.**_

 _ **"Yes he has." Sirius smirked. Ares knew that smirk. It would always appear when his father was about to play an elaborate prank on some unsuspecting victim. "But, now that you are forced to return, we shall do what we have always have done."**_

 _ **"Tumble the chess board and own the game?" Ares asked cheekily, his own version of the smirk rising on his face.**_

 _ **"Exactly." Sirius smiled internally at his son's quick wit. "By the time we will be done with them, they will be wishing that they had left the Marauders alone!" Sirius ruffled his son's hair. "Also, your dad and I have so many memories of Hogwarts. It would be unfair to his memory if his son would not enjoy at least some years at Hogwarts." His expression turned serious. "And then there is your heritage to consider."**_

 _ **Ares leaned forward, a frown on his face. "Dad's puzzle?" A few years ago, Sirius had explained everything surrounding the death of his parents, including the clue left by his birth father. While he and Sirius had put together all their skills and resources, they could not make heads or tails of the clue.**_

 _ **Sirius nodded. "Do you have your things ready?"**_

 _ **Leaning back, his elbow on the arm of the seat, Ares nodded. "Trunk packed, check. Satchel and moleskin pouch taken, check. Mirror and emergency portkey, check. My wand and holster, check. Dad's wand and holster, check. Yes, everything's ready."**_

 _ **Sirius smiled at Ares. "Good boy. Now let's go off for an early sleep. You have a big day tomorrow."**_

 _ **Ares grumbled for a moment before he turned away to go to his room, only that he stopped on his third step. Turning around, he said "Pad?"**_

" _ **Yes?" Sirius replied.**_

" _ **Why are you truly sending me there?" Ares' gaze was shrewd.**_

" _ **What do you mean I am-we just discussed every-" Sirius tried to defend, but Ares could see it was a half-hearted attempt. It was just like Padfoot to reveal half-truths to him and then let him try to figure out the entire plot.**_

" _ **I cannot take my position at the Wizengamot, but that doesn't mean that I won't ascend to my Lordships. I already hold the Potter and Slytherin Headship and can ascend as soon as I master the Family Magics, and you know that."**_

 _ **Sirius tried to defend but Ares continued, not letting his father get a word in. "Also, even if I do not have the authority to sit there, I can as easily appoint you as the regent for the Potter and Slytherin seats. The restriction doesn't apply to you."**_

" _ **You would never be able to sit on the Wizengamot in that case, Ares." Sirius countered.**_

" _ **Wrong! The Law says that a**_ **Lord** _ **cannot take**_ **his** _ **seat at the Wizengamot if he does not pass his OWL's and NEWT's from Hogwarts. If I appoint you as the regent for Potter and Slytherin seats and you, in turn, appoint Me as your proxy; Technically, I will be proxy for the Potter, Black and Slytherin seats at the Wizengamot. A Lord is bound by the requirements. A proxy is not, save the minimum age requirement which is fifteen. I turned fifteen the last month." Ares declared.**_

 _ **Sirius stood still for a moment before he guffawed. "You are so like my own grandfather."**_

" _ **So tell me, Father…" Ares drawled, a hint of irritation in his voice. "Why were you pretending to send me to Britain on those points?"**_

 _ **Sirius sighed. "Because it is time for**_ **payback** _ **." He walked up to his son and ruffled his hairs. "I don't want you to live a hermit's life, away from your motherland. However, your abilities and your… Family magic will be seen through a tinted lens back there. The Potters and Blacks have investments, alliances and businesses in Britain. We need to get back what it ours, and if they don't let us, we snatch it."**_

" _ **Marauder's honour." Ares commented cheekily.**_

" _ **Cheeky brat." Sirius grinned. "You know that Voldemort and Dumbledore wouldn't give you and me a single moment of peace should we return nicely. So… we prank them."**_

 _ **Ares raised an eyebrow.**_

 _ **Sirius adopted a look of mock-disappointment. "What? Where is your sense of adventure?"**_

 _Adventure, My Balls._ Ares swore internally. Daphne would probably kill him, and then resurrect him, only to hex him six ways to Sunday and back, when he revealed to her that all of this was a part of a prank… An extremely elaborate prank. Actually… he might be better off in Azkaban once Daphne learnt the truth.

" _ **The Malfoys head the Dark faction, while Dumbledore controls the Light. Most of the neutrals just sway in the direction of the wind. The Minister… let's just call him an opportunist and leave it to that."**_

" _ **And….?" Ares asked, a glint in his eye that meant business.**_

" _ **I think it is time we take the mantle for ourselves." Sirius declared. "Shake things up a bit. Make sure that Lucius goes to Azkaban like his buddies. Dumbledore gets bald, and Voldemort returns back to being dead."**_

" _ **And you are going to do that by…." Ares let Sirius complete the sentence**_

 _ **Sirius grinned. "We play a prank."**_

" _ **Right." Ares drawled. There were days where he wondered if all Blacks were insane. Then again, it would be hypocritical of him to say such words.**_

 _ **Sirius directed Ares towards the couch. Once they were seated, he began explaining his plan.**_

Everything had gone just as planned so far. Now only if the final execution happened without any errors….

The sudden rattling of the doors to his cell broke him out of his reverie. Getting up from the bed he was lying on, he stared at the door. He found one of the aurors he had seen at Hogwarts bending down to place a plate on the floor.

"Eat." The man snarled, pushing the plate towards him. The plate slid all the way towards Ares, hitting his robes. They had let him wear his school robes.

" _This…_ is all?" Ares drawled, glancing down at the unpalatable meal in front of him. It was a pity that even in a world that was run on magic, the law enforcement couldn't provide quality food.

"Be grateful that you are getting this, _dark wizard,_ " The man sneered.

"What's your name?" Ares asked. How many This was his third meeting with a bigot is as many days. Thoughts of training with his tutors passed through his mind. He was so going to kill Dumbledore for forcing him to come to this country.

"Why?" The man's sneer grew more pronounced. He walked two feet into the cell. "Going to complain to your daddy? Oh I forgot, your daddy is _dead_ , and you live with a _kidnapper_."

A dark shadow flickered over Ares as he digested that comment. "Well, kidnapper or not, I'm sure that he will certainly want to meet someone who holds such a… high _appreciation_ for him."

The man sneered and was about to refute back when a stern but bubbly voice interrupted him. "Leave him Dawlish. You have no right to torment him."

The second auror to enter the cell was a rather young woman who looked to be in her twenties. She wore an auror's robe over what looked to be a pink T-shirt and ripped jeans. Even in the dim light of the cell, Ares could see the black hair and the slightly aristocratic features as the woman walked towards him.

"Of course, Rookie. You would know him, after all. What with your mother and-" The man – Dawlish, Ares corrected mentally - sneered at the female only to find a wand aimed right between his eyes.

"Highest take down rate at the Auror Academy in ten years, and a _protégé_ of Master Auror Moody. If you do not wish to taste a hex from my wand, get out of here." She hissed.

"Know your betters, Tonks." Dawlish sneered, but only found the wand pressing further, the tip causing a slight burn. Without any further comment, he decided to get away with whatever dignity he had left.

The moment Dawlish stepped out of the room, Tonks lost her tense pose and sighed. Casting a privacy ward all around them, she turned towards Ares. "Sorry about that. Don't mind him. He doesn't know any better." Her voice was sincerely apologetic.

"Tonks." Ares whispered. Gazing at the auror's eyes, he asked "Any relation to Andromeda Tonks nee Black?"

"My mother." Tonks whispered. "She was-"

"My father's favourite cousin, I know. He told me." Ares answered. "I didn't think we would be meeting under such circumstances, but well… thank you for your efforts."

"It was nothing." Tonks clarified with a flourish. The stern wands-on auror had vanished and a rather bubbly woman had taken her place. "You are Harry Potter, right?"

Ares nodded in affirmation.

"My mother told me about how cousin Sirius took you away. We actually have met before, when you were a baby. I have a photo of us together at my house. You were a toddler back then." Tonks giggled at the picture she remembered.

 _Ah. She does look a bit like Bellatrix when she was younger._ Ares smiled at her. "Well, nice to meet you… uhm, do you have a first name, Tonks?"

Tonks hesitated for a moment. "Nymphadora. Nymphadora Tonks, but I don't like people calling me by my first name."

Hearing a note of pain from his words, Ares decided not to say anything about it. "Tonks it is, then!" He declared.

Tonks grinned at the young man she had not seen in fourteen years.

* * *

The Wizengamot chamber predates the Ministry of Magic and has been in use since the days of the Wizard's Council established after the fall of Avalon. Legends of the time state that after King Arthur fell to the blade of his illegitimate son, Mordred, Emrys had sacrificed his life to secure Avalon in another dimension while the Wizengamot chamber was created by his last miracle to stand as a monument to the Knight's Round Table established by King Arthur.

Established two hundred years after the fall of Avalon, the Wizard's Council was made up of the oldest and most powerful magical families of Albion to govern the magical population and to protect themselves from the predations of so called witch-hunters and the slowly rising religion of Christianity that was replacing the worship of nature and spirits. The Council used the chamber as their court, assembly and parliament.

As the centuries passed, other families were elevated to the ranks of the Wizengamot and the area around the chamber was built up as the needs of the magicals grew. As a muggle city began to grow around the area, the Council knew that they needed to be hidden, especially since the Inquisition was quickly gaining power and witches and wizards were being put to the torches. In perhaps the greatest act of co-operation between families, all the members of the Wizengamot called on their Family Magics to help them in their task. The Magics responded by burying the Wizengamot chamber and all related facilities, including the newly minted Department of Mysteries, deep below the ground and creating some of the greatest wards in the history of magic and removing the memory of the event from all non-magicals who witnessed the event.

Now safe from the muggles, they realised they needed to consolidate and restructure their government to suit the coming days. As the decades passed and the Council grew in size and power, so too did the Wizengamot. The chamber became the heart of government, the place where the fate of the country and its population was decided by the elite.

After the Statute of Secrecy was passed by the ICW, the Council realised the current government was too inefficient to keep up with the demands of time. So, in 1707, the Wizard's Council disbanded and the Ministry of Magic was formed, the Wizengamot still at the core of government. Since the creation of the Ministry, the Wizengamot was become a sacred seat of government, the most secure place in the Ministry and the greatest monument to the survival of the magical government of Britain.

The chamber itself was a beautiful piece of architecture. It was a domed circular chamber made to resemble the legendary Round Table of King Arthur. The entire room was made of a glossy stone material that had never been replicated and barely understood by the top experts of the DOM. The chamber had seats arranged around the room in concentric circular tiers, of which there were six; The sixth, and upper, tier was the public tier, open to all. There were no seats on this tier; The fifth tier was reserved for press, Ministry officials, family and retainers of the Wizengamot members with benches provided for seating. The fourth tier, with its chairs of silver upholstery, held the seats of the Order of Merlin recipients and Heads of the various departments of the Ministry of magic. The third tier, with its seats of gold upholstery, was reserved for the Noble Houses and their advisors. The second tier, with seats made of black wood and purple upholstery, was reserved for the Lords of Noble and Ancient Houses and Noble and Most Ancient Houses and an advisor to each. The first and lowest tier was the podium that held the seat of the Chief Warlock alongside the Wizengamot Scribe and the Chief Clerk of the Wizengamot; They held zero votes; Three seats beside the Chief Warlock's podium were reserved for the Minister of Magic, Head of the DMLE and the Head of the DOM. The tiers were elevated from the ground by a good seven feet. A high-backed metallic chair stood on an elevated stone platform in the middle of the chamber. There were several doors behind the tiers which led to private meeting rooms and public exits. The three doors below the tiers led to parts unknown.

All seats of the Wizengamot, except the seat of the DOM, were currently occupied and the six and fifth tiers were packed with the public and reporters respectively. An elderly man wearing robes of aquiline blue, a sharp contrast to the plum robes of the rest of the Wizengamot members, walked onto the podium of the chamber. The moment he stood over the Chief Warlock's chair, all the Wizengamot members stood up in respect. The old man took his seat - the members imitating him swiftly after.

The man, still seated, intoned loudly. "Close the doors. As Chief Warlock, I, Tiberius Nathaniel Odgen, call this emergency session of the Wizengamot to order."

The doors of the Wizengamot closed with a great noisy sound, as the ambient magic inside the room slowly permeated the entire chamber. The enchantment made sure that no wands could be drawn by the occupants of the chamber unless permission was given by the Chief Warlock. All the members shuddered slightly as the magic took hold.

The Chief Warlock, Odgen, turned to the grey haired clerk and said "Chief Clerk, call the Order of Business for the session."

The clerk, Albert Dullard, stood up, from his seat and, in a strong voice, replied "Yes, Chief Warlock." Picking up the sealed parchment on his desk, he broke the seal, opened the parchment and said "Today's Order of Business consists of a single agenda. The agenda is the "Accusation of Line Theft against Ares James Black, Scion of the Noble and Ancient House of Potter, for trying to usurp the Line of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. The complainant is Lord Lucius Abraxas Malfoy of the Noble House of Malfoy. The trial is to be presided by the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Oswald Fudge." Finishing his statement, Martin sat down.

Turning to the Minister, Odgen stated "The floor is yours, Minister."

Minister Fudge stood up from his seat. "Bring in the accused."

Following his orders, a set of doors on the ground floor opened with a loud sound, announcing the entry of the accused, Ares Black, along with a group of four Aurors, two in front of Ares and two at his back, walked into the chamber. Ares's hands cuffed with magical restraints and he was still wearing his school robes. Two of the aurors stood at the edge of the platform, while the other two led Ares to the chair in the middle of the chair. Tonks, one of the aurors accompanying him, removed his restraints so that he could walk ahead and sit in the chair. The moment he did so, chains sprang up out of the chair as they bound his arms to the chair tightly, enforcing magical restraints on him. Tonks and the other auror stood to either side of him.

The years of political education at the knee of his father and the lessons taught by the journals of Arcturus Black had widened his knowledge on politics, law and tradition. As such, he immediately knew that several procedures were not being followed and traditions were being ignored. He was accused of a crime and not yet proven to be guilty of said crime. Then, there were the entitlements and rights for a Scion of a Noble and Most Ancient House that seemed to have been conveniently forgotten by this _auspicious_ body. But this was not the time to quibble over such things or lay his cards. He looked up and gazed at the body in front of him.

There were around seventy of them, all, as far as he could see, wearing plum-colored robes and hats with an elaborately worked silver 'W' on the left-hand side of the chest and all staring down their noses at him, some with very austere expressions, and others in open curiosity.

In the very middle of the front row sat Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. The portly man was wearing the traditional Wizengamot hat and looked almost _gleeful_ to be there. Amelia Bones sat to his left. On Fudge's right was another witch, but she was sitting so far back that her face was obscured in shadow.

"Very well," said Fudge. "Let us begin the trial of Ares James Black. Are you ready?" he called down the row.

"Yes, sir," said an eager voice from the front bench. It was the court scribe, a rather young red-haired boy who sat ready with auto-recording quill over a long piece of parchment.

"Disciplinary hearing of the sixth of September," said Fudge in a ringing voice, and Percy began the recording. "into offenses committed under the Decree for the Line Theft, offenses committed under the Decree of usage of Dark Magic, and offenses committed under the Decree of Criminal Listings by Ares James Black, former resident of Godric's Hollow." He paused for a moment. "Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley-"

"Witness for the defense, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," said a quiet voice from behind Ares who turned his head so fast, he felt the bones in his neck crack.

Dumbledore was striding serenely across the room wearing long midnight-blue robes and a perfectly calm expression. His long silver beard and hair gleamed in the torchlight as he drew level with Ares and looked up at Fudge through the half-moon spectacles that rested halfway down his very crooked nose.

 _Okay. I didn't see that one come in. What is the old man playing at?_

"With all respects to Professor Dumbledore, and no offence intended," Ares declared, much to Dumbledore's own surprise, as well as the Minister, who looked torn between surprise and glee. "I would like to defend myself." He turned towards Dumbledore. "As much as your help is appreciated, it is un-necessary."

"My boy-" Dumbledore tried to reason with Harry, knowing the Wizengamot would tear him apart.

"The boy has stated his intentions clearly, Dumbledore." Fudge jumped in, his face wild with glee at the prospect. "You should stop trying to save him, Albus. Clearly, he thinks himself superior to his betters." The Minister cleared his throat. "Now, there are three records of accusation against Harry James Potter. Accusation of line theft of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black – complaint lodged by Lord Lucius Malfoy, guardian of Draco Lucius Malfoy, rightful heir to the Black Lordship. The second offense is usage of Dark Magic, precisely Parseltongue, in the presence of sensitive audience with intent to harm them. The third offence is the unprovoked assault against one Ronald Weasley. How do you plead?"

"Not Guilty." Ares smiled at the Minister, a strange serene expression that wiped the happiness from the Minister's face. "As my own defendant, I would like to clarify a point before the Wizengamot. It is clear that since I am being held for trial before the entire Wizengamot, I am being treated as an adult. Am I correct?"

"You are no adult." The woman to Fudge's right spoke up. She wore pink robes and had a rather uncanny resemblance to a toad and had a rather… sickeningly sweet voice. "You are only a _boy…_ "

"I am sorry?" Ares demanded, his tone containing a hint of anger. "I believe that according to Article 91, Sub-section 6 of the Wizengamot Charter, only an adult can be tried on the _Chair of Ekrizdis_ , to be testified in open court."

Several whispers ran among the Wizengamot members at the mention of Ekrizdis, the Dark Lord who was responsible for the creation of the island of Azkaban and the creation of Dementors in the first place. The chair had stood as his throne in the Tower of Azkaban. After his defeat, the Wizard's Council of the time moved his throne from the Tower to the Wizengamot and it was decreed that the chair would forevermore be used to try the guilty and punish them for their transgressions. This was to provide a strong statement that all those who assume the position of a Dark Lord would be tried and executed under the authority of the Wizengamot. While the chair has remained in place for nearly four centuries, the history behind it has been forgotten by the public with the passage of time. Only members of the Wizengamot and a few historians and books possess knowledge of it.

"Ho- How do you know that?" Fudge stammered.

"I read… Minister." Ares drawled. "Regardless of my… _competence_ as a would-be member of this session in the near future, we will return to that question. Am I, or am I not, being treated as an adult in this court?"

"You are, Mister Potter." Amelia Bones answered, her no-nonsense tone being very distinct. No one, not even the Minister countered her statement.

"Let the record reflect that I recognize The Head of the DMLE stating me as an _adult_ on trial." Ares's words rang through the entire room. "As an adult, I, Harry James Potter, Head of the Noble and Ancient House of Potter, declare my actions against one Ronald Weasley as my reaction against slander of my family and those under my families' protection. This I swear on the magics of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter. As I have sworn, so mote it be."

The chains on the chair shook powerfully but they were unable to contain the immensely powerful wave of magic that radiated out of Ares's body right after he made that statement, as furious whispering erupted among the audience.

"If the court shall deem it worthy, I shall prove that I do, in fact, still have my Potter Family Magic and thus, I was speaking the truth." Ares said

"Remove the chains, Minister." Augusta Longbottom, the stern-faced Regent for the Noble and Most Ancient House of Longbottom, spoke from second tier. "We insist."

"Seconded." This time, it was Lord Jonathan Greengrass of the Noble and Ancient House of Greengrass who flashed a little smile at Ares. Ares nodded in return with a smile of his own.

"Unseal the chains." Fudge almost growled, as the chains retreated into the chair, allowing Ares to stand up. Flexing his hands, he intoned _"Familius Magicus Corporis."_

Instantly, a wave of golden energy flooded out from him before it condensed into a silvery gryffin that roared out in pride.

 _The Potter family totem._ Dumbledore observed from the side, but did not comment. He hadn't realised that the boy had planned something… Then again, he did not _know_ Ares Black.

"I suppose that is fair proof." Lady Augusta remarked, her lips twitching in humour. She knew what the boy was doing and was waiting for Malfoy's comeuppance. "The Family magic has judged Harry Potter as truthful."

"Seconded." Surprisingly, the person to do so was Edward Nott, Lord of the Noble and Ancient House of Nott. Ares raised an eyebrow at the unexpected development but said nothing.

"Does that mean that the record against the Decree of Criminal Listings will be cleared off from my name?" Ares asked, staring at the Minister who looked like he had swallowed a lemon.

"I will personally see to it, Mister Potter." Amelia Bones replied. A note of humour and relief could be heard in her voice.

"Thank you, Lady Bones." Ares thanked her, making sure to display his gratitude to the lady of a Noble and Ancient House, and not just the Director of the DMLE. A few of the other Lords noted the surprisingly subtle political move from the young Potter Heir but said nothing.

Lucius Malfoy, who sat beside his wife Narcissa on the Malfoy seat on the second tier, nudged his wife. "Are you sure that your aunt Walburga had made the declaration, considering every single legal ramification?"

"Why would you doubt her? She made the declaration ironclad." Narcissa retorted back, her eyes never leaving the irritant standing on the floor who, despite being the accused, was playing the Wizengamot like a harp.

"Then why do I think that out of everyone present, Potter is the only person who _wants_ to be here?" Lucius near-snarled in cold fury.

Down there on the floor, Ares gave out one of his patented fake smiles. "Now that that's settled, we will move to the next item on the record. My use of Parseltongue."

"Dark magic." Dawlish commented from the edge of the platform.

"Thank you for your expertise, Auror Dawlish," Ares said, a sketching a mock bow towards the auror who sneered back.

Turning back to face the members, he said "Parseltongue is a magical language that manifests in few bloodlines across the world. It allows the user to talk in the language of snakes and provides a certain level of dominance over them. Despite Voldemort-" He mentally chuckled at the number of flinches across the room. "speaking the language of the serpents, it is primarily used in the field of healing. Now, unless Minister Fudge has declared Parseltongue as Dark Magic under the Wizengamot Charter when I wasn't looking…?" Ares looked at Fudge with a questioning glance.

A few chuckles ushered in the courtroom. Fudge and the toad-like woman besides him were gnashing their teeth.

"I would also like to point out that despite being held on trial as an adult, I was given no legal representation. Let the Wizengamot note that as a crime committed against a Scion of a Noble and Ancient House."

Whispers exploded around the assembly.

"You had Dumbledore as your legal representation." Fudge barked, his face red with embarrassment. He knew that if the boy began using the laws that governed the Ancient Houses, he was done for. "You rejected him."

Ares smiled like a predator. The expression sent a chill down the spine of several members, including Fudge. "Albus Dumbledore is many things, but a legal solicitor well-versed in Wizengamot law, he is not. And contrary to what you would want the auspicious body to believe, I _did not get_ any choice or opportunity to choose a legal solicitor to address my case in court."

Fudge seemed like he was about to pee.

"Hem-hem!" The toad-like woman spoke again. " _Mister_ Potter. You are suffering under the delusion that you can tell the Wizengamot what to do."

"Of course not," Ares countered. He was getting irritated with them repeatedly calling him 'Harry' or 'Potter'. "I am simply stating my case."

Fudge began speaking before the boy could do any more damage to the case. "It is time that we address the main issue that has brought us here. The accusation of Line Theft, submitted by Lord Lucius Malfoy on Harry James Potter." He turned towards the court-scribe - something Weasley - who got up to forward a legal document to the Minister who held it like a trophy. "This document submitted by Walburga Cedrella Black disinherits one Sirius Orion Black from the Black Family and appoints the first male scion of Narcissa Malfoy Nee Black, one Draco Lucius Malfoy, as the Heir Apparent of the House of Black upon his coming of age. Signed by Walburga Black and Orion Arcturus Black, the Acting Lord Black on May 23, 1977."

Fudge looked positively gleeful once again, as he clapped his hands. "I intend to get this done quickly, so should we put it to a vote?"

"One minute, Minister Fudge," Ares interrupted, "Let it be on record that the _esteemed_ Minister of Magic wants the session _done quickly,_ rather than met out justice to a Scion of a Noble and Ancient house."

Regardless to say, the glares from the Lords made Fudge look away in embarrassment.

Ares continued. "As we have proved my status as an adult for the course of this… _trial_ , I would like to prove my innocence once again, by calling for the Manager of the Black Records at Gringotts."

"Goblins are not allowed to testify in the Wizengamot." The toad-woman countered loudly.

"Oh, I know that very well Madame. I only wish for the court to demand the Black records from Gringotts - specifically, the Last Will and Testament of one Arcturus Sirius Black, the _previous_ Lord Black. According to Paragraph 3 from Article 32 of the Wizengamot Charter, the accused has every right to demand financial records to prove his innocence."

Mutterings began throughout the hall, as Lucius and Narcissa blanched at the words. Fudge lost all color while Dumbledore's eyes narrowed.

"The Wizengamot recognizes Dirk Creswell, the Head of Goblin Liaison Office." The Chief Clerk spoke up.

In the fourth tier, the Department Head stood up and drew his wand, muttering some obscure incantations as a large folder appeared on the desk of the Chief Clerk, who opened the folder to extract the desired document.

"The Last Will and Testament of Lord Arcturus Orion Black, the forty-sixth Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black." He paused for a moment, as a ripple of shocks pervaded among the audience. "I, Arcturus Orion Black, of sound mind and body, declare Sirius Orion Black as my rightful successor and Lord to the House of Black and related estates. This Will, signed on 27th of November, 1979, is my Last Will and Testament and nullifies all Wills and Testaments declared prior to this one." The clerk paused for a moment, "Signed, Lord Arcturus Orion Black."

Pandemonium reigned across the chamber. Fudge was sweating buckets at the words. He knew he was done for. He had brought the rightful Heir Apparent on trial without investigation. The Ancient Houses would tear him apart. This was all the fault of Lucius. He told him that his son was the rightful Heir. If he was going down, he was going to take down a few people with him.

"Order." The Chief Warlock waved his wand to produce a loud cannon-like sound, attracting everybody's attention and silencing them. "The Last Will and Testament of the _actual_ Lord Black neutralizes the one made by the Acting Lord Black. Is there any further notice by the Acting Lord subsequent to the Will signed in 1979?"

"No, Chief Warlock." The Chief Clerk, Albert Dullard, stated plainly.

"In that situation, the document provided in favour for one Draco Lucius Malfoy as the Heir to the House of Black is declared invalid. Is there any record for Sirius Orion Black in the files?" The Chief Warlock asked.

"On October 31, 1981, Sirius Orion Black conducted an inheritance ritual at Gringotts London branch, succeeding the previous Lord - Arcturus Orion Black, whose death had been notified to have occurred on October 29,1981." Dullard replied in a monotone. "The records also state that Sirius Orion Black blood-adopted one Harry James Potter into the Black Family and officially renamed him as one Ares James Black."

"Hold," Lord Greengrass interrupted. "Does this mean that the Noble House of Malfoy tried to commit _Line Theft_ by forcing punishment on the _legitimate Heir of Black?_ This is preposterous!"

"Hem-hem!" The toad-woman, Dolores Umbridge, spoke up. "We are forgetting that these are goblin records versus the word of famous philanthropist and a Wizengamot member. Those _breeds_ are not to be trusted, and I think that-"

" _Dolores!_ " Amelia snapped, cutting off the secretary's words "Please do not utter any more words unless you wish to spark off another goblin rebellion."

Dolores fumed at the interruption. "I am the Senior Undersecretary of the-"

"You are a _secretary."_ Augusta Longbottom interrupted the tirade before it could escalate. The pink-clad woman had always rubbed her the wrong way. "Your job is to push papers and make notes, not make decisions at the Wizengamot. Hold your tongue or else I will have you carted off from this room."

"Now, now Regent Longbottom, I am sure there is no need for-" Minister Fudge tried to placate the furious woman but to no avail. Augusta Longbottom was furious.

"You ignore the laws of the Wizengamot and put a Scion of a Noble and Most Ancient House on trial. You ignore his basic rights and privileges, and now you want us to ignore the fact that you were involved in the _Line Theft_ of a Noble and Most Ancient House by a mere _Noble House?_ "

Ares forced his Occlumency to maximum power to contain his chuckles. This was turning out much better than what him and Pad had expected.

Dullard cleared his throat to drag the Wizengamot's attention to him. "We have another notification from Gringotts stating that Ares James Black has been declared Heir Apparent of the House of Black on August 1, 1992."

"Were there any witnesses?" The Chief Warlock questioned.

"The Bulgarian Minister for Magic, Chief Warlock." Dullard answered in monotone.

Ares thought it was hilarious. Many of the Lords and Ladies were fuming in anger at the gross injustice that was occurring in the emergency session, in front of their very eyes. The fourth and fifth tiers stayed quiet, knowing very well that commenting on _Ancient House Business_ would be considered out of line, and not at all acknowledged. The reporters were taking pages upon pages of notes of what might be the most _scandalizing_ turn of events at the trial of the most famous teenager of Wizarding history. Minister Fudge opened his mouth and closed it at random intervals, unsure if speaking was the best action forward, since he had already dug himself a rather, large hole. Dolores Umbridge looked like someone who had just tasted a bad egg.

* * *

Lucius was mortified. He had all but _forced_ the emergency session, so that he could feast on the amount of publicity he would acquire, not just by publicly declaring Draco as the legitimate Heir, but also the reparations that he would demand from the House of Potter. It was a perfect golden goose that he had decided to take advantage of.

However, the proverbial golden goose had turned out to be stink-sap, and now he could only stare in absolute horror as the reputation of the _Noble House of Malfoy_ was disintegrating before his very eyes, events that were only possible because the green-eyed boy standing at the center of the chamber playing him for a fool. His fury and horror aside, a part of his mind marvelled at the _Slytherin tactic_ that the teenager had used against him. Lucius had done his worst to make sure that the _Potter_ would be defamed, his reputation tarnished. He had never expected that the _boy_ would take his grand plan, and reverse the pieces, turn it on itself and destroy the reputation of the House of Malfoy.

"Lucius… Lucius?"

Narcissa's voice shook him up from the vicious cycle of his own thoughts, as he slowly turned his head towards his wife. A part of him wanted to _strangle this bitch_ for not checking everything. But another part of him reluctantly accepted that it was his idea to go forth with the complaint without checking the records at Gringotts.

"Lucius… Do something." Narcissa hissed at her husband. She knew they were done for.

 _What… what could I possibly do now?_ Lucius's brilliant mind was in turmoil at the events that had taken place in front of his eyes.

"Lucius… you have to do something or else the vultures will tear the Malfoy name apart." Narcissa all but snarled the words. She could not let Lucius stop thinking. The reputation of the Noble House of Malfoy depended on his words.

Her words seemed to work, as Lucius jolted his from shock.

His instincts kicked in. There would be time for rage, but this was not it. He had dug his own coffin, and now he would have to climb out of it. Shameful or not, he would have to… have to….

 _Apologize._

Lucius stood up. He could feel the stares converging on him, but he had eyes for only one person. The fifteen-year-old who had played him, and beaten him at his own game. The _boy,_ who had, fifteen years ago, destroyed his dream of standing aside the Dark Lord in a pureblood-world, and now once again had shattered his and his son's dream of holding the Dark Alliance spearheaded by the one of the Darkest families of the World. The boy who would now destroy the Malfoy name unless Lucius did something.

His first instinct was to throw a killing curse at the boy. Repeatedly. However, implementing that line of thought into action would only help in throwing Lucius into his own coffin and sealing the lid. He would be _lucky_ if Wizarding Britain did not _tear his entire family to pieces._

His rage displaced, he reached out for all his cunning, guile and charm that had allowed him to develop his political and economic power. With slow, measured steps towards _Ares Black,_ he gently walked down the stairs until he was standing in front of the boy, looking at him in the eye.

"I… I apologize…" Lucius bowed his head slightly – he could not shame himself completely. "Please… Forgive the House of Malfoy for our actions taken in ignorance of the facts, and for the insults dealt to the Houses of Potter and Black. _Please_ do not declare us as _traitors_." He would kill himself before being declared a traitor to Magical Britain. There was a reason the Weasleys were shunned by the Noble Houses for their ancestor's actions even after a hundred years.

The damned boy didn't even move a muscle on his face.

Lucius grit his teeth as he continued his apology. "We acted on the basis of the information we had, and assumed that… that you were misinformed about the heirship… and…"

Ares cut him off, anger lacing his words. "I remember stating, rather clearly, and _publicly_ , to your heir, that I was the Heir Apparent of the House of Black. During the same _public announcement_ , I demonstrated proof of my claim by displaying the Heir ring of the House of Black." His expression of anger turned into a smirk. "But let us ignore that, in the spirit of brotherhood and all that… Why did you _not_ ask for a meeting with the _Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter_ over the issue?"

Lucius just stared, having no excuses to make.

"You did not seek an audience with the House of Potter, as per the demands of tradition. No, you went forward to openly submit an _official complaint,_ one that resulted in an emergency Wizengamot session, and used it in an attempt to publicly _shame_ the House of Potter." Ares was snarling towards the end.

Silence permeated the hall.

"I am this close to declaring you as _blood traitors_ to Magical Britain." Ares held up his thumb and fore finger together, less than a millimetre of space between them. "And I would be well within my rights to do that."

Lucius felt the cane in his hand slip and fall down on the floor with a clang, as his heart accepted the tumultuous defeat.

The entire Wizengamot stared in silence. Even Albus Dumbledore looked at Ares speculatively.

"However…" Ares continued, causing Lucius to look at him with a glimmer of hope. "Your wife and son possess the blood of Blacks. Keeping that in mind… I am… _forced_ to reconsider. You shall _swear on the Malfoy name_ to grant the _Lord Black_ three favours, favours which are to be granted at a time and place of his choosing."

Giving himself a small amount of hope, Lucius carefully considered the offer. After all, he wouldn't want the Blacks or Potters to hold any form of control or Primacy over him. "What… favours…?"

"That will be notified to you in due time." Ares replied with steel in his voice. "I will arrange an audience with the _Lord Black_ to discuss over the arrangements. I would swear on my family's name that the favours would be in accordance with the laws governing the Ancient Houses, but I doubt it would matter." Ares replied casually. "Of course, you are free to reject the offer and then _I can choose_ for you."

A part of Lucius had to doff his hat in respect to the boy. He did make for a very ruthless Black Heir, just like old man Arcturus once was. Sirius Black had taught the boy well.

Knowing the choices were losing control over his actions or a fate worse than death, Lucius gave a sigh. Looking at the boy in his eyes, he said "I… I swear on my Family's name that I will grant… the Lord Black _three favours_ according to the arrangements and conditions that Lord Black shall place upon my family. As I swear, so mote it be." A vibrant shade of mauve radiated out of his frame as the oath took effect.

"In that case…" Ares replied after a moment, "I, Heir Apparent of the House of Black and the Head of the House of Potter, officially forgive House Malfoy for its transgressions on my person and reputation. As I swear, so mote it be." His statement was coupled with a mighty burst of magical energy from his body in the form of black fumes, which condensed to form an ethereal version of a raven, that perched on Ares's shoulder and stared at everyone else intelligently. A silvery griffin materialised beside him and glared at the Wizengamot.

 _The Black and Potter Family totem._ Dumbledore realised.

 _There is a lot more going on here that I do not yet, comprehend. It seems that Sirius Black and Harry Potter have been involved in events more than what I previously anticipated._

His bright blue eyes stared at the fifteen-year-old boy who had just… _pranked_ the Wizengamot, and had done so without losing his composure. He had beaten Lucius Malfoy at his own game and came out with far more advantages than even Lucius anticipated out of his victory. However, the entire sequence had been _surprisingly illuminating._ The way Harry Potter managed to call on the _family totems_ with such effortless ease, screamed out to the heavens that the boy was anything but ordinary.

 _Perhaps there was something about the Prophecy after all._

Dumbledore stared silently at the _Boy-Who-Lived._ He had always considered the prophecy's wordings from Tom's angle… But now, there was something new to it. Staring at the boy who had just winked at him with a mischievous smile on his lips, he nodded in respect to the talent of the upcoming Lord Potter.

 _All right, Harry Potter. You got my attention._

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: Merry Christmas, people. At least, for all those who actually care about the holiday. The rest, just another of the day to laze around with friends and family.**

 **Moving on, Did you like the chapter? Hate it? Wish to burn the two of us on a bonfire?**

 **Anybody who wishes to burn us, may target their PM's to my fellow author, Arcturus Peverell. It was his idea. Anybody who does find a plot hole or two may leave a review or PM Arcturus again.**

 **Now, just because we have a winning situation for our protagonist here does not mean it is all sun and roses. There is plenty of… improv coming up.**

 **Arcturus Peverell: Do not worry. Making things up on the fly is a very good ability of mine. I will make sure the story is up to scratch… uh, wait, that came out all wrong. Uh…Whatever!**

 **And that's my fellow author in one sentence. Anybody who is willing to stick around for the rest have a treat coming up soon.**

 **Oh, and before we end up, hee's a private answer for a special reviewer by Skadarken in his special sarcastic manner…**

 **Skadarken: I'm, regrettably, lowering my IQ to talk to the daft moron who literally said "Sirius stole Harry".  
Dearest Illiterate reader, if you were capable of reading the English language and comprehending the letters, words, phrases, sentences used and the context of the chapter, you would have realised your jumped-up assumption was wrong.**

Unlike the British Ministry of Magic, which you seem to work for, me and my fellow author do possess a rather good IQ, ability to analyse situations and create scenarios that fit our story.

You are operating under the misconception that you have the minimum intelligence necessary to live a day-to-day life. Please consult a medical practitioner soon. Do you know what the words "consult" or "medical practitioner" mean?

 **(In classic Severus Snape fashion) Tell me ThunderSphinx, can you read?**


	10. Unforeseen opportunities

**August 22,1989.**

 **The Black Manor.**

Sirius Black sat on the chair behind the Lord's desk of his grandfather's study. Nearly eight years had passed since the day his grandfather died, and he had taken on the responsibilities of Lord Black. Yet, he could not help but associate this room with the now deceased Baron Black. Every time he walked in here, he expected to see his grandfather sitting at the desk, his trademark severe look on his face. Sometimes, he believed he heard his grandfather's voice in the study. He would shake off the feeling, knowing the former Lord Black did not leave a ghost or a portrait imprint. The only image left of Arcturus was a static portrait that sat on the wall to the left of the desk in the study.

He may not have always seen eye-to-eye with his grandfather, but he had always respected him. Arcturus Black was a strict and disciplined individual. The members of the Wizengamot held Baron Black in high respect for his incredible political acumen. He was highly feared by several factions for his suspected links to several dark organisations and command of Dark Magic. But he had always been a caring man towards his family. He may have been strict, but he had always given them the freedom to choose his path.

Sirius would always be reminded of his grandfather whenever he laid his eyes on his son. Ares might share his and James' penchant for pranking and Lily's passion for magic, but his personality reminded him of his grandfather. Sirius was astounded when he began teaching Ares the in and out politics. Despite all the grumbling on the subject, his son had extremely good instincts for politics. Ares could run circles around him in debates and soundly dismantle counter-arguments. Sirius could not wait for the day when his son took up his seats on the Wizengamot. The overpaid fossils would not know what hit them. The thought always brought a grin to his face.

Realising his mind was wandering, Sirius shoved his thoughts into the back of his mind. Right now, there was a _problem_ sitting in front of him. A problem he did not know how to deal with. A problem, he believed, that should not even be _alive_.

"So Sirius, what do you think about my proposition?" A cultured, female voice asked him. It held an undercurrent of amusement, steel and a hint of madness.

Sirius stared at the woman sitting on the other side of the desk, dressed in expensive robes cut for a duelling frame. His grey eyes flicked over Cassiopeia Virgo Black, sister of Arcturus Orion Black, and his grand-aunt. During the Great War that tore Europe during the 30's and early 40's, the woman was considered one of the world's leading authority on the Dark Arts, _and_ one of Gellert Grindelwald's chief enforcers. She was believed to have died during the final days of the war, a week before the Dark Lord's defeat at the hands of Dumbledore. Yet, here she sat, in full health, with an offer to teach the Dark Arts to his son.

Sirius mentally groaned.

Over the past year, he had done his very best to teach Ares anything and everything that he decided was safe for the boy to learn. Then again, _safe_ was a matter of perspective, since the _boy_ was an absolute prodigy at the offensive arts. Ignoring his surprise and scepticism at Ares's learning ability, Sirius had gone ahead and taught him everything he could teach him. Now, after a year of private instruction, the _nine-year-old_ was the equivalent to a NEWT student in DADA, while the rest of his subjects were at the level of a second-year.

However, Ares had always had problems with control over his magical core and power. While his training in Transfiguration provided him better control over his magic, his lack of aptitude of the subject hindered his efforts. While he rapidly accelerated in his studies of the offensive arts, they rarely taught a wizard or witch to control or their magic or mature their magical core without significant stability issues.

Sirius had researched several fields that help Ares with his shortcomings and allow him to gain control over the Slytherin Family Magick before it consumed his heritage. In the end, Sirius realised there was one field which suited his son's natural affinities and teach him to control his magical reserves while vastly improving his power. Unfortunately, Sirius was not a fan of the field. The very field that the Blacks were famed throughout Europe for.

The Dark Arts.

Modern day witches and wizards tended to classify most offensive magics, rituals and several esoteric arts as Dark Magic. _Adept_ practitioners of the magical arts claimed that magic was neither light nor dark, that it was all a matter of perspective and based on the intent of the user. Contrary to their beliefs, _true_ Dark Magic existed. An entire branch of magic dedicated to the worship of power and tended to _corrupt_ the practitioner. These arts were very good at amplifying the user's natural magical strength and improving their reserves of magic, while their inherent nature _compelled_ the user to rely on them frequently, which was one of the main reasons the arts were shunned. The other reason was the overwhelming emphasis on the destructive forces. After all, there was a reason that the term 'Dark Lord' was coined. Hence, all students of the Dark Arts were heavily trained in the Mind Arts to ensure they did not succumb to the temptation. Still, many practitioners eventually fell to the allure. Fortunately, or unfortunately as Sirius would say, his grandaunt was one of the few with the necessary mental fortitude to retain her sanity.

After continuing to stare at her amused smile for a minute, Sirius asked, steel coating his voice. "I will ask you again, Aunt Cassie. _How_ did you know that I would require such services?"

Cassiopeia gave a throaty laugh. "You are still the same ignorant child I remember, Sirius. We are family; There are bonds and paths you do not yet understand." She winked at him, earning a scowl. "However, if it helps, I came across this information from someone that holds your good as _his_ highest priority. I could swear an oath to that effect."

Sirius scowled at her non-answer. "And what makes you think that I will allow my son to be indoctrinated into Grindelwald's ideology?"

Cassiopeia scoffed. Her brother's grandson could be infuriating at times. "Oh, stop being such a _baby_ , Sirius. You know very well that young Ares's situation can only be solved by the Dark Arts and nothing else. Besides, he is a Black and we Blacks _need_ to learn the Dark Arts, especially since it is an important component of our Family Magick. Would you rather let him self-study, or worse, taught by some worthless amateur and let him succumb to the allure or… the _haze_?"

Sirius felt his throat go dry. His grandfather had lectured about the _haze_ during his time spent at the Black Manor training in the Family or wizards with immense affinity for the Dark Arts could suffer from their magical core being heavily destabilised, becoming extraordinarily powerful at the cost of their sanity, turning them into mere berserkers relying purely on destructive magic. This condition was known as the _haze_.Once the person was affected by the _haze_ , no level of proficiency in the Mind Arts would help them fight it. In all his battles, he knew of only two who had willingly succumbed to the _haze_.

Lord Voldemort and Bellatrix Black.

Sirius knew about the condition, and was very afraid of Ares succumbing to it. It was the main reason he had not taught him any of the family spells or even the most basic foundations of the Dark Arts. While he would have loved to find an instructor, he knew the chances of finding one who did not suffer from the _haze_ were slim at best. Adding to the problem was that most people who possessed a high level of proficiency in these arts tended to stay hidden.

Now, he had the solution to his problem sitting in front of him, wearing a grin on her face.

Cassiopeia could see the gears turning in Sirius's head. Now she just had to push him a little more and he would agree to her request. "That's without mentioning the boy's affinity to the arts of destruction. I hear he's outstripped you in the field."

"How would you know?" Sirius barked.

Cassiopeia's grin widened at the show of emotion. "It doesn't matter. What matters right now is the situation my great-grandnephew is in." Expression turning severe, she asked "Do you want him to overcome the obstacles in his path or not?"

Sirius grit his teeth. She knew she was right and was taunting him with her information. Staring into her eyes, he asked "And what makes you so… _sure_ that Ares will not fall into the same trap that Bella fell into?"

Cassiopeia rolled her eyes at the question. _Merlin, help this kid!_ "Because it is _me_ who will be teaching him. Bellatrix spent her time learning the arts from amateurs. I, on the other hand, am a _Master_ in a field that is feared the world over. As long as he is diligent in following my instructions, he will _not_ become a slave to the magics and retain his sense of self and his sanity. Besides, I am sure that as longas _you_ are around the boy, there's a larger probability of him turning into a prankster than a full-scale dark wizard."

Sirius did not comment on her answer. He knew he had no other choice. He had a Dark Arts master sitting in his house and it would be idiotic not to make use of the chance he had. Heaving a sigh, he opened his mouth to answer only to be interrupted by his quest.

"I will be staying in my old quarters, since I don't think my frail self can afford anything different." Cassiopeia knew he had agreed. She could read the conclusion on his face. "If you are agreeable, then I will begin teaching him _pronto_."

Appearing as if Skele-gro had been forced down his throat, Sirius asked. "Answer me honestly, Aunt Cassie, and I will consider your proposal. _Why_ are you trying so hard to offer your services to teach my son?"

Cassiopeia sighed. She could not give him the whole truth. She had a promise to uphold. _A half-truth then._ "Because… he has potential." She looked at Sirius in the eye. "Because he has potential the likes of which might never come again in the line of the Blacks."

"And?" Sirius asked. He knew that wasn't the reason, at least not all of it.

Cassiopeia scowled. Merlin help her if the kid was as stubborn as his son. "He also holds the blood of the Slytherin line." Sirius jumped in shock, but she ignored it. "It would be an absolute honour for a _Slytherin alumni_ to teach a descendant of The Founder, one who will unite the Black and Slytherin Houses under a single banner, or even better, a clan."

Sirius sat in stunned silence, wondering how she came to know about Ares's heritage. Besides his two account managers at Gringotts, Sirius and Ares, the news was not spread beyond. It should have been impossible for her to find out about it.

" _How do you know that?_ " Breaking out of his stupor, he screamed at the raven-haired woman. He did not reach for his wand, because he still had the presence of mind to understand he wouldn't last five seconds against her. He did, however, prime the wards to target her in case of an attack. He had learnt his lesson from Lupin's visit.

Ignoring the Lord Black's turmoil and the menacing feeling of the wards on her skin, Cassiopeia plowed ahead with the next bit of information. "Besides, he is the _Boy-Who-Lived,_ Sirius. Yes, I know all about that. I'm not dead yet. When you return to Britain, he will find himself a target of the _Dark Lord's_ -" She sneered at the word. "-supporters. It is imperative that he learns of his inheritance. Do not allow your tainted view of the world take it away from him. That _boy_ is born to wield the Dark arts."

Ignoring her words, Sirius asked "How. Do. You. Know?" Every word was punctuated with a menace rarely heard from the ex-auror.

Mentally heaving a sigh, Cassiopeia knew there was only one way to both get Sirius to accept her help and save her life. Drawing her wand slowly to not alarm Sirius, she held it over her head. _Black, you owe me._ "I, Cassiopeia Virgo Black, swear, on my life and magic, that I do not intend harm of any form on Sirius Orion Black and Ares James Black and I only wish to help them to the best of my ability. Furthermore, I swear that I cannot reveal the name of my source at this point in time. So I swear, so mote it be."

A black aura radiated out of her, signifying the oath had taken effect.

 _I hate magical oaths._ was the first thought through Sirius's mind. Now, he _knew_ he couldn't ask about the information or not believe her claim of helping him. Mentally screaming at himself for going through with this, he asked "And you will teach him the _Dark Arts_ , and only the Dark Arts?"

Cassiopeia shrugged "I will teach everything I can teach him, kid. He's going to need all the help he can get."

Sirius sighed, unsure if he should laugh or cry. Wherever Orion and Walburga Black might be at this moment, they must be laughing their arse off at the blatant irony of it all. Their son, the one that had spurned the Black family lineage, was now having to teach the same to his own son.

His wand spinning into his palm, he waved it upwards, and muttered. " _Expecto Patronum_!"

* * *

Ares sighed. Stretching his muscles, he glared at the dark brown wooden floor.

He had been working on the _Shield Orb_ spell, an older variant of the _Protego_ spell. Unlike the _Protego_ spell, the _shield orb_ surrounded the caster in an energy shield bound to the caster. It had fallen out of favour for modern shielding spells due to its longer incantation, wand movement and the immense focus necessary to maintain it. However, the main advantage of the shield was its ability to move with the caster, something that most shields lack. He had been tinkering with the spell over the past two weeks, trying to stabilise the shield to form a self-maintaining defence while trying to add a propelling charm, to turn it into a rudimentary escape pod. While had had achieved the first objective, the latter was being frustratingly difficult. He had spent over eight days trying to tie the charm into the shield, but the shield was not _co-operating_. And he did not wish to spend time on the arithmancy required to create the necessary matrix to merge the two spells. Hence, his attempts at creating the combination spell _his way_.

The _Ares way_ , in which he willed his magic to work the way he wanted it to. And it _always_ worked.

Waving his black wand, he performed the reverse arc, drew the _eihaz_ rune, added a forty-degree flick and muttered " _Vivamus Fermentum Clypeus_ ". A perfect _Shield Orb_ , flickering in blue and green energy, flashed into life around him before stabilising itself. He then took a deep breath, before flicking his wand upward in a single move, which should produce the propelli-

A sudden hissing sound attracted his attention. _Bugger!_

WHAM!

The shield bubble got squeezed by air on both sides, as the bubble thinned and slammed into him from either side. The thin shield hit with the force of a stunning hex, disorientating him before shattering.

Stertching again to get rid of the feeling, he thanked his lucky stars that his failed attempts removed most of the energy before slamming into him. While the _Ares way_ did not, he grudgingly admitted to himself, always work, it _did_ work _nearly_ every time he tried.

Ares scowled. "Stupid spell." Shaking his head to remove the disorientation that he was feeling, he got himself ready for a second attempt. It better work this time, or Merlin save him, he would…

He would….

 _Have to do it the stupid Arithmancy way._ Ares's scowled deepened at the thought.

He was just about ready to start another attempt when the silvery form of _Padfoot_ flew towards him.

Ares raised an eyebrow. While he had mastered many defensive spells, he had yet to try master the Patronus charm - Padfoot had been rather stubborn at not allowing him to try the spell, citing his age as the most important reason. Apparently, the Patronus was an esoteric spell - whatever that meant - and Padfoot would not let him _try_ the spell until he had reached the sixth year material in Magical theory. Considering the number of rules that Padfoot had Ares abide by, he had decided to obey his father in good faith. He was a very good son after all, and never did anything that his father told him not to. A traitorous part of his mind, one that sounded eerily similar to his father, reminded him of the innumerable times he had stolen books from the Black library but he ruthlessly pushed the thought away.

The silvery grim opened its mouth and his father's voice emanated from it. "Come to the study."

Ares raised an eyebrow. His father was never comfortable staying inside the Lord's study - he visited the room far more frequently than Pad and that was saying something - and for his father to call him, through a patronus, was… _odd_. He stared at the grim which barked before vanishing.

 _Damn. Now I have to walk all the way to the Study._

The Lord's Study located on the highest floor, the fourth floor, of the manor and he was in the training room in the basement. His broomstick was in the closet in his room. A part of him wanted to summon his broomstick and fly up there, but a recent _incident_ came to mind. He had cast the spell to summon his broom from his closet, and by a number of _completely unintentional_ circumstances, the process had led to the curtains in his room catching on fire and his father had to renovate the entire room on the second floor. Ares had been grounded for two weeks for that.

Kreacher wasn't an option, and neither was Matty. Matty would _pop_ him somewhere in the garden, just to make him walk longer, and Kreacher was well… Kreacher. Running out of ideas, he looked at his wand in vain as he took a deep, long-suffering sigh. It seemed there was be no other option that could allow hi-

A proverbial bulb glowed in his mind.

Ares grinned.

* * *

Sirius was just pondering over the state of affairs that he was going to have to deal with when a loud noise outside the door attracted his attention. Thinking the worst had happened, and ignoring his grandaunt who had turned towards the door, he got up in all haste and ran out of the study only to see-

A nine-year-old devilspawn was _bouncing_ all over the corridor, with a blue-green energy sphere enclosed around him. The _ball_ was rolling on the floor, bouncing on surfaces, rebounding between the walls, floor and ceiling - the elasticity of the sphere propelling it upwards before it struck another surface, causing it to zoom in and out, all over the corridor, like an oversized bludger.

Just as the ball turned in his direction, Sirius intoned loudly "Immobulus!"

Ares felt his ride stop midway, feeling the sudden jerk as his _Shield Orb_ stopped in mid-air, hanging like some kind of levitated prison cell. His eyes followed the direction of the voice and saw his father standing right in front of the study, his wand in hand, and a scowl on his lips.

Only one thought ran through his head. _Holy Shit._

"Okay," Ares answered with a long-suffering sigh. "Let's face it. This isn't the worst thing you have caught me doing!"

* * *

"So you are my great-aunt."

"On the Black side, yes." The woman in front of Ares smiled. A thin, flimsy smile. Ares decided that she looked nigh uncomfortable with that expression.

 _Damn, this is odd._

Seeing the awkward atmosphere, and really wanting to move out of the study soon, Sirius said "Ares, your great-aunt Cassie will be staying with us from now on, and she will be in charge of teaching you…" His son frowned at the words. "the Dark Arts." His frown went upside-down and there was a nice, big smile on the rapscallion's face.

"Seriously?" Ares couldn't help but release his surprise. Eyebrows furrowing, he turned to his father. "But you have always- you know-" He tried to demonstrate using hand signals in vain.

"And that has turned out _wonderfully,_ hasn't it?" Sirius drawled. He knew the antics his son had been involved in. "After all, it is not like it stopped you from _stealing_ the books from the library."

"I didn't _steal_ them," Ares defended in indignation. He didn't think Pad knew about that. "I just… took them without permission."

"That is _stealing."_ Sirius deadpanned.

"Ahem!" Cassiopeia cleared her throat, hiding her smile at the boy's words.

"Right." Sirius ignored the glare the little hellspawn was giving him, and focussed on Cassiopeia instead. "So she is your great-aunt and your new tutor. You are going to give her the sa- ahem, more respect than you give me, and obey her. Is that understood?"

Ares felt that his father was acting way out of character, but didn't voice his thoughts aloud. Deciding that he would have to act the way they acted in public, he nodded with perfect posture. "Of course, father."

Cassiopeia tried her level best not to show her amusement. Deciding to end the charade, she cleared her throat once again. "Ares, perhaps we should leave your father to his responsibilities, which I am sure he has…" She looked meaningfully at Sirius, who nodded and left the room, before staring at Ares. "What are you thinking, Ares?"

"Uhm, nothing." Ares replied hastily.

Cassiopeia raised an eyebrow.

"Just thinking how you are going to manage all of that?" Ares blurted out the words.

"You don't think I'm competent enough to teach you?" She replied with mock-haughtiness.

"No, no—it isn't that," Ares backpedalled, waving his arms in denial. "Well, it's like… I am kind of- well, I find it hard to stay in one place and sit and learn. Pad usually has to run all over the place teaching me and-"

"You think that me, being the old frail lady, cannot keep up with you, and will force you to sit and study like obedient children." Cassiopeia deadpanned.

"Uhm, you will?" Ares asked, a downcast look on his face.

Cassiopeia had an incredible urge to say yes, but she changed her mind and focused on her magic. Her appearance shifted, and sitting in her place, was a young black-haired woman who appeared to be in her early thirties. "Am I young and fit enough to teach you now?" Sarcasm oozed from her tone.

"Whoa!" Ares replied, star-struck at the amazing piece of magical transformation she had managed, and wandlessly of all things. He had studied Human Transfiguration in advance and knew the difficulty of the magic she had pulled off effortlessly. "How did you do that?"

"I'm a metamorphmagus." Cassiopeia clarified. She found the boy's exuberance refreshing. "That means that I can change my appearance at will."

"Wow, can I also learn how to do that?" Ares asked reverently.

"Unfortunately not," Cassiopeia scrunched her face. "Metamorphs are born. Just like Seers, or Parselmouths. You are either one, or not."

"Oh." Ares replied sullenly.

"Don't be like that, Ares." The elder woman chided. "Being a Metamorph also comes with its own share of disadvantages, lack of physical coordination being one of them. Since our body physiology is always changing, it tends to lower our coordination."

"I… see." Ares replied, not really understanding her.

Cassiopeia smirked. "It means that I was clumsy for decades before I learnt to control my powers effectively. You wouldn't want to trip on your foot during a duel, would you?"

A recent memory came to his mind when Padfoot had defeated him with a tripping jinx in a duel. It was embarrassing enough to consider that being a metamorph meant that he wouldn't need Padfoot to jinx him to trip on his own feet. Shaking his head to throw off that embarrassing image, Ares looked up. "No," He decided firmly, "I am better off not being one."

Cassiopeia smirked again. "So Ares, your father tells me that you are a good enough duelist at such a young age?"

Ares shrugged, doing his best to control his blush.

Cassiopeia chortled at his embarrassment. "He also tells me that you are a big fan of the Black Library, and that you have already stolen it over fifty tomes."

Ares decided that the floor was the most interesting thing he had ever seen. "I only stole the ones written by Cassandra White, and it's forty-seven not fifty." He murmured.

"Cassandra White, eh?" Cassiopeia smirked in amusement.

"Yes," Ares replied, missing the wide smirk on his aunt's face. "she is the Dark Arts Master of Durmstrang, and my favourite author. I wanted to learn from her." Ares added with a miniature frown.

"Ah." Cassiopeia deadpanned. "Well, I will try to be as good as this… Cassandra White." Her expression hardened for a moment. "As your new tutor, I decree that you shall have to return all those books immediately to the library." She almost smirked at the sullen face of the little kid before her, before she continued, "You now have my permission to use the library as you wish."

Ares's eyes widened at the opportunity she was giving him. "Seriously?"

"Seriously." Cassiopeia replied in a stern voice. "I only demand that you perform your pet projects under my supervision."

Ares's grin got bigger and bigger, since anyone who allowed him into the library and was insane enough to help him in his anarchic projects was Ares's friend.

* * *

"The first thing you need to understand and commit to your conscience is that there is nothing _evil_ about the Dark Arts. Despite what your puritanical father would like to quote, using the Dark Arts does not make one a murdering psychopath."

Ares had a small frown on his face as he considered the statement. He was sitting in the Black library alongside his great aunt (who had insisted he address her as Aunt Cassie), trying to understand the theory behind the Dark Arts before. His father had told him about Voldemort and how he was a monster. Hearing about murdering psychopaths brought forth the initial fear that had gripped him when he had first felt the Slytherin magic form a shroud over his magical core. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Ares gave a brief nod for her to continue.

At his nod, Cassiopeia continued her lecture. "It is true that most practitioners of the Dark Arts lose their control and sanity and walk down the path of destruction. _However_ , it is possible to study the Dark Arts, and _not_ succumb to their allure. I am, all modesty aside, one of those few who can call themselves a legitimate _expert_ on the subject, and who is not a deranged murderer." She happily ignored the part of her mind that was whispering about her actions during the Great War of Europe.

"And thus, there is one fundamental rule which you must always follow…" Her tone was of steel as she said " _You must always be in control of your magic. Never, ever let it control you._ "

"Pad says the same thing." Ares chirped.

"Does he?" Cassiopeia smirked. "Then again, Arcturus did spend a month teaching him the Family Magic."

"Was grandfather Arcturus very powerful?" Ares asked, his interest piqued at the mention of his great-grandfather who Pad talked about it. His father did say he was a lot like him, whatever that was supposed to mean.

Cassiopeia frowned. "Arcturus was powerful, easily overpowering most wizards and witches, but not near the same level as Grindelwald. I dare say that I was more skilled. Arcturus's real talents lay in politics; his political acumen was unparalleled. He could have easily become the Minister of Magic if he ever wished to do so."

"Wow." Ares remarked reverentially.

"Then again, great-uncle Sirius Arcturus Black was the Minister of Magic in his time. My own grandfather Phineas Nigellus was the Headmaster of Hogwarts in his time, and my cousin Pollux was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Always remember that you are a Black, and that means that you are born for greatness."

Ares felt a warmth settling inside him, hearing about the achievements of his family. A question appeared in his mind, and he couldn't help but ask it. "What about the Potters?"

Cassiopeia frowned. "The Potters were never… politically motivated. They were professionals; businessmen, potioneers, enchanters and the like. Your family has always guarded their privacy jealously, something that is impossible if you intend to swim in the political world."

"Oh." Ares commented with a frown. He liked politics, and couldn't wait to be a part of the Wizengamot when he grew up. His father always quoted how he was like grandfather Arcturus in that respect. "Pad says that I can study from the Family grimoires when I turn ten."

Cassiopeia ruffled his hair. "No need to hurry. You will learn a lot about your families in the coming years, just like the Arts I intend to impart to you."

Ares grinned.

"One thing that you need to understand is that the term ' _Dark Arts_ 'is actually a misnomer. Nearly all of the Arts classified by modern witches and wizards as such are the combat magics used by our ancestors for millennia. In those days, magic was raw and powerful, with far reaching and extraordinary effects. Even most of the magic practised during the Founding of Hogwartswould be classified as _dark_ in modern times."

Ares was hanging on to her every word.

"The mages of old relied on necromancy, blood magic, thaumaturgy, runes, rituals and various arcane arts. The Warmages of the era simply combined the magics to create the field now known as battle-magic, one whose focus would lie on destruction. The battle-magic of old is essentially what constitutes the modern D _ark Arts_."

"Pad says that I am very good at battle-spells." Ares replied proudly.

Cassiopeia smiled. "As you will be, in the _ancient_ battle-magic when I am done with you."

* * *

 **Several Months later…**

"Not good enough, Ares. Try better."

Ares scrunched up his face, pointing his white wand towards the dummy lying in front of him, as he whispered. _"Sanguiniferveo."_

The blood-boiling curse flowed down his wand to strike the dummy, the point of impact starting to simmer as the dummy began to melt slowly.

"Stop." Cassiopeia chided. "You are not doing it right. You are pouring far too much magic all over the place, Ares. It is an _amateur's_ way of doing things, not the Heir of Black."

Ares frowned. He was accustomed to forcing his magic do things he wanted it to do. It was the way that his magic worked, and it was exactly how he had won some of the duels against his father. He had yet to encounter problems with the magical theory, but the practical application of the Dark Arts was more challenging than he had expected it to be. Aunt Cassie, being the perfectionist she was, wasn't helping matters either.

"Let me guess. You have always poured in more and more magic until it overpowered your opponent?" Cassie asked shrewdly.

Ares nodded briskly.

Cassiopeia scowled at the boy. "I forbid you from doing that ever again. Always treat your magic like you would treat your own blood. Enough to make it work, not a quint more."

Ares scowled. "But it worked against-"

"Sirius, yes." Cassiopeia interrupted him. "And the reason you won is that, despite your apparent youth, you hold a lot more magical power in your body - probably because of your Slytherin lineage. Most wizards do not possess such raw power in their prime. That blood-boiling curse you just cast would have drained most wizards."

"Oh." Ares nodded in understanding as he wondered on the best way to control his flow.

Cassiopeia's face scrunched in consternation. Teaching the boy was as much as a challenge as it was joy. She had never met anyone with such _natural affinity_ , and yet, his ways of using magic were unorthodox at best. She remembered the way he had combined two spells to form that _Protego bludger_ \- Sirius had named it - she had witnessed on her first day in the manor. She still had trouble grasping the truth that the boy did not use Arithmancy to achieve it.

Relaxing her features, Cassie asked "Tell me Ares, can you feel your magic flow through you when you cast a spell?"

Ares nodded. "It feels like an overpowered aguamenti charm… Like a big wave, you know."

Cassiopeia narrowed her eyes. Perhaps the boy could experiment with wandless spells if he was so highly-tuned to his magic. Most witches and wizards could feel their magic only after several decades of practicing magic. She had achieved such a feat at the age of seventeen.

"This time, when you cast the spell, try to _regulate_ the amount of magic _flowing,_ all right? You say it is like a wave. Well this time, try to decrease the _wave_ into a thin stream. Can you try and do that?"

Ares thought hard about it. Closing his eyes, he performed the wand incantation as he whispered. "Sanguiniferveo."

Instantly, he felt a wave of magic flow through his hand, out towards his wand. Remembering Aunt Cassie's words, he _listened_ ,and slowed the magic down, constricting it until he felt a few drops flow through. His wand vibrated for a moment as a pale blur of purple struck the dummy. But the dummy was intact and no marks appeared on the surface. Hell, it did not look like a curse had struck the thing at all.

Cassiopeia scowled. The boy was going to be the death of her. He could just force his magic to cast any dark spell by simply overpowering it. However, there was more to the Dark Arts than mere power. The boy could be an outstanding killer, if he just spent time honing his control. She wondered about the destruction he could cause as a healer, considering that most healing magic and rituals required an extremely high degree of control over a person's magical reserves.

"That was a pitiful casting if I ever saw one." She scoffed. "What did you do? Close your flow completely?"

Ares looked sullen. "I tried to stop it. So, it just… _stopped._ A little of my magic passed through into my wand for the curse."

Cassiopeia frowned. It seemed like she would need to spend time teaching him how to _manipulate_ his magic before he could actually progress to the finer and more esoteric aspects of the Arts. Most students of the Dark Arts were encouraged to try wandless magic, as it improved their control while opening more pathways in their body for the magi to flow seamlessly. When such witch or wizards tried to cast spells through their wands, they found the casting to be far easier and allowed them to better control over the potency of their curse. Ares on the other hand, would find it rather ill-suited, considering he had excellent grasp over his magical flow and power. But he needed control training and wandless magic did not offer him the same benefits as it did for others. She would need to find ways to help him _tune_ his magical control and efficiency.

* * *

"Aunt Cassie?" said Ares.

Cassiopeia replied "Yes, Ares?"

"How did you become a Dark sorceress?"

Cassiopeia laughed. "Did your dog of a father mention that?"

Ares just grinned, not caring to accept or deny the accusation.

Cassiopeia shook her head in vain. Eleven months had passed since she began her time as a tutor. Much to her consternation, and joy – not that she would admit it – the boy had burrowed his way into her heart. She had grown fond of him and his grin was equal parts wariness and delight to her. "Well, I have always been a scholar of the Dark Arts. I left Hogwarts after taking my OWLS to continue my studies at Durmstrang Institute. Six years later, I walked out with a mastery on the Dark Arts, something that very few people end up achieving."

"Why so?" Ares tone was one of curiosity.

Cassiopeia smiled at him. The boy was far too curious when it came to magic. "Well, it's the prejudice against the Dark Arts mostly. However, I didn't care and Arcturus fully supported me back then. Besides, Pollux was already studying at the Institute." She paused, considering her words. "I was always enamoured with the concept of a muggle-free world. I mean, who wants muggles around? An entire wizarding world, with the muggles under our domination sounded much better to my ears. Grindelwald… he was just the cream of the crop. I loved his ideology, although to be frank, his ridiculous quest for those fantasies was quite… repelling."

Ares tilted his head, confusion on his face. "Fantasies?"

Cassiopeia scowled in thought. "Oh yes. He was obsessed with immortality and with finding a certain wand, not that it helped him at the end. Dumbledore defeated him, even with Gellert wielding it."

Ares's eyes widened. "Albus Dumbledore?"

"The very same." Cassiopeia frowned. "Personally, I never liked the man. All that power, and yet, no ambition. Bloody goat."

"Pad doesn't say the same about Dumbledore though," Ares muttered. "He says that Dumbledore cannot be trusted."

Cassiopeia bit her lip. "Well he does have a point. The old man changed after the War. The Pre-War Albus Dumbledore was a hot-headed Gryffindor, albeit one with superlative ability in the field of transfiguration. The Chief Warlock of Britain is a cold, manipulative bastard. Then again, power has a way of changing people."

"Will I- I mean; will it change me too? You know, learning the Dark Arts and my magic? Pad says I am very strong." Ares muttered, trying to ignore the sinking feeling forming in his stomach.

" _Only if you allow it too."_ Cassiopeia advised sagely. "I was young, and powerful. Grindelwald offered a world that suited my dreams, and I went forth with him, following his lead, fighting and striving to create a world where magic was might."

"And then?"

"I grew up, I suppose." Cassiopeia replied bluntly. "I realised that in my blind ambition, I had given in to the _haze_ which had led me closer to my own destruction. Back then, it didn't even matter to me if I butchered thousands of people at the flick of my wand."

Ares's eyes turned as wide as saucers. "How did you- you know…?" He tried to explain without causing offense, or being insensitive.

"Get out of the _haze_?" Cassiopeia asked, as Ares nodded. She sighed. "Arcturus defeated me."

Ares's eyes widened at the answer. "Grandfather… your brother, fought against you?"

"Yes." Cassiopeia smiled sadly. "Arcturus and Charlus Potter were leading the 44th regiment of the ICW against Grindelwald. He and Potter fought on the right flank, trying to throw us out of Bulgaria and the Balkans. I and Reginald Longbottom led the defence against them."

"And then?"

Cassiopeia ignored the irritation growing at Ares's repeated interruptions and continued, "Arcturus faced me on the field He was always powerful, but I was a shade more skilled. Then again, I had been striving to be better and better while he had been involved in politics. I held the upper edge." She paused, "I was winning, and I think, in control of the _haze,_ I would have killed him, and done so quite easily."

Ares was hanging to her every word.

Cassiopeia laughed bitterly. "Then the bastard did the unexpected."

"What did he do?" Ares couldn't help but voice his curiosity.

Cassiopeia smirked. "He used the Black Family Magick against me."

Ares blanched. While he had yet to gain proficiency in his Family Magicks, his lessons had always included warnings on using Magick against one's own family. It was considered a taboo by many. "But- but, you are Family."

Cassiopeia looked grim. "I was going to kill him. I would have killed him. In the _haze,_ I doubt I would have even considered my actions." She paused, looking every bit her age for a moment. "It was a good thing he did. The Family Magick paralysed me, and he… took advantage of it, pouring a vial of the Draught of living death down my throat."

Ares looked horrified.

Cassiopeia smiled in bitter amusement. "Don't be shocked, Ares. Arcturus was always unpredictable, and I dare say, it was the best thing about him. I advise you to learn from him in that respect."

"What happened to you after that?" Ares's voice was nearly a whisper. He could not even contemplate fighting against his own family.

Cassiopeia looked sullen. "I was asleep for… months, I think. When I finally woke up, the war had ended and, apparently, Dumbledore had defeated Grindelwald. There was no news about Reginald and my brother had been given the title of _Baron_ for his bravery and his contribution to the war."

"You must have been… angry." Ares commented softly.

"Hardly." Cassiopeia laughed. "All that I felt was disorientation for weeks; being on the potion for such a long time caused some problems. Arcturus and his wife Melania treated me back to health and he explained what had happened." She paused, looking sullen. "I was ashamed of my actions and asked him to grant me death for choosing a stranger over the Lord Black and my own family."

"What did he do?"

"He granted it." Cassiopeia replied simply. Laughing at Ares's shell-shocked face, she took pity on him and explained. "Oh no, he didn'tactually _kill_ me. He killed _Cassiopeia Virgo Black_. I had to re-sink myself into Occlumency, get complete control over my mind and magic, create an entirely new character for myself with a new past. Since 1947, I have been known by an entire different name." She paused. "Cassandra Allura White."

Ares felt his throat clench. His aunt was… "You… you are… Cassandra White?"

Cassiopeia smiled magnanimously at his expression. She did like throwing the boy for a loop now and then. "Always a pleasure to meet a fan."

Ares was having problems trying to string together a coherent sentence. "But- yo- we di- you are- The Dark Arts Master of Durmstrang? The one wrote all those books?"

Cassiopeia smirked. "It's good to be appreciated by family."

Ares's face lit up in a bright smile before frowning at a suspicious thought. "Does Pad-?" If his father did know, and did not tell him all this time… well, Ares had been silent on the pranks for quite some time.

Cassiopeia smiled in amusement, knowing the direction his thoughts had taken. She contemplated answering in the affirmative, wondering what kind of chaos her little nephew could unleash. "Oh no, he doesn't. This is going to be our little secret. Agreed?"

Ares grinned.

"Now can we return to your magical tuning?"

The grin vanished, only to be replaced by a scowl. "But I have been doing that… tuning for months. My magic doesn't like it, you know."

Cassiopeia just laughed. He was always fun to be around.

* * *

 **March 1991.**

Almost two years had passed since Ares had begun learning the Dark Arts from his Aunt Cassie. It had been a rather… tumultuous journey through a variety of magical theory, experimentation and _lots and lots of fun_. There had been plenty of dire moments too, especially when Aunt Cassie had begun instructing him on the so-called _dark curses_ , and the infamous _Unforgivables_. After several failures, his aunt had finally found the perfect way to change his spell-casting from his innate _KABOOM_ style into something much more clinical and sophisticated.

Cassiopeia could wax lyrical about Ares's achievements but in his presence, she would only ruffle his hairs and say that he had… _done well._

However, like all good things, this had to come to an end, since Cassiopeia felt that she had taught him enough for him to pick the rest up at his own pace. And now, she was ready to return to her _home_ , away from Black Manor.

"Why can't you just stay here, Aunt Cassie?" Ares whined.

"Stop whining." Cassiopeia smiled at her nephew's pout. "It doesn't fit someone of your stature. Besides, It's been two years since I have been away from home and my friends. Besides, I will be just a floo call away should you need any help from me."

Ares frowned. It felt strange to let her… go. His parents had died, leaving him alone with Padfoot. The fact that someone could just… let go, without dying… was a concept he was having difficulty to grasp.

"Besides, both of you are going to Egypt, and my frail health isn't going to help matters. A lady needs her rest." She replied pompously.

Ares considered it. He had become so used to his young and vibrant Aunt Cassie that he had almost forgotten that she was over ninety years old. Though, wizards and witches had long lifespans, Cassiopeia Black wasn't in the prime of her health either.

"Why can't you teach me warding? Why send me to Egypt?" He whined, despite the scowl on her face. He really did not want to her leave him.

"Because you are Ares James, the heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black." Cassiopeia stated in a firm tone. "You need to learn the arts of Wards and Wardbreaking and it must be from a Wardmaster. I am many things, but a Wardmaster is not one of them."

"But-"

"No buts." Cassiopeia cut her nephew off in a voice of steel, knowing if she delayed any longer, she would stay forever. "I have given your father an address in Egypt, to meet an acquaintance of mine. He is a rather accomplished Wardmaster and will be able to teach you what you need." She paused, "Besides, it will be a nice, little vacation for you, away from the confines of the Manor."

Ares frowned but didn't say anything in return. His Aunt Cassie was usually right. So, if she decided that this Wardmaster as good, then he must really be a very good teacher.

* * *

 **A month later…**

"I am _never_ going to learn warding, if _that_ is the person I need to learn from," Ares raged as he walked through the sandy beach, his father walking beside him. "That… that… _idiotic, moron of a…._ "

"Sheesh, Ares. From whom did you learn to swear like that?"

Ares glared balefully at his father.

"Right… from me."

Ares looked away, towards the waves. The past month spent in Egypt with his father - apart from the sights, artefacts, tomes, tombs and local magic - was an absolute waste of time. They had approached the man recommended by his aunt Cassie. Sure, the man was an accomplished Wardmaster and everything, but his head was too high in the clouds to even recognize that Ares Black could learn warding, despite being just ten. He had spent the month under the man's tutelage and not a day went by without any taunts. Ares had briefly considered throwing some of the curses his aunt had taught him. After a long month of this _ridiculousness_ , the man - something Smith; he had some family in Britain - had openly accused his father, to his face, of having kidnapped Ares after the death of the Potters.

Understandably, that hadn't gone well as Ares had taken slight at his words, and for a moment, he had forgotten all about the _magical control_ that Aunt Cassie had drilled into his head for the last two years and let his magic out in his classic KABOOM style. Needless to say, the results were quite disastrous as he had blown the man's expansion tent to shreds, obliterating many of his personally crafted artefacts in the process. Before the incident could turn more… problematic, Sirius had taken a rather infuriated Ares Black and portkeyed away.

That was how they had found themselves walking in the sandy beach, amidst the International Magical Fair hosted on the French Riviera this year. Sirius, in all his infinite wisdom, had decided that visiting a magical fair would be a good way to calm down an infuriated Ares Black, who was still having second thoughts over casting _Fiendfyre_ on the sandy beach to just blow off some heat.

"Why is it so _important_ for me to learn warding?" Ares asked, the glare still etched to his face.

"Because warding is an excellent way to learn how to manipulate magic" Sirius replied. The sounds from the fair washed over the beach they were walking on. "Besides, the Black Library has a rather… infamous collection of books on the subject, and every Black gets a heavy grounding in wards. We are a paranoid bunch of madmen, remember?"

Ares frowned. He understood very well that, had it not been for the ancient wards of Black Manor, the people from Britain- Dumbledore, the old _cheshit_ \- would have snatched him away from Padfoot. The fact that a creepy old man wanted to keep him away from his Padfoot had made a rather deep impression on him ever since he had learnt about it. It was the reason why they had stayed at Black Manor.

"So why can't you or Aunt Cassie teach me?" He already knew the answer, but he was ten, and it was necessary for him to petulantly rebel against something right now.

Sirius smirked. "You know the answer very well. Now let's see if we can get some nice prank items at the fair."

The fair was quite large in size and scope. There were hundreds of stalls with people shouting and yelling in enthusiasm. Ares felt quite cramped among the crowds. The fair was spread out over an area much bigger than the shopping district back at home; stretching out for Merlin knew how long. The design and size of the stands ranged from nice to suspicious, depending on the popularity of the items and the customers that perused the items. Dozens of tents were set up along the beachfront, selling everything from antiques and artefacts to sweets and quills.

It was all very weird to Ares. The place, the fair was very loud. Very different from what he had seen and the people were far too exuberant. Even Aunt Cassie was rather… dignified and cultured, having rare moments when she lost her cool, mostly due to Ares's penchant for pranking than any other reason. The time when he had set _Fiendfyre_ lose in one of the empty stables came to mind, an accident that had only occurred because he wanted to _experiment_ on the nature of _free_ Fiendfyre.

"So what are we going to do at the _stupid_ fair?" He asked his father.

Sirius sent him an irritated look. "Come on Ares, stop being that grumpy. I had hope of finding good prank items here." Looking at the grumpy look on his son's face, he decided to go for the kill. "Who knows? Maybe you can get something you can use for your… experiments?"

Ares's change in countenance meant only one thing. He was sold.

"But…" Sirius paused, "Before you run off, we need to do one thing." He waved his wand to cast a monitoring charm on Ares before tapping on the heir's ring. "Any problems, you just portkey away to Black Manor. Is it clear?"

Ares bobbed his head in agreement. He looked towards the stands with eager anticipation.

Sirius mentally groaned. He was not going to have a quiet few weeks, if he was lucky.

* * *

In less than thirty seconds since Sirius left him to his devices, Ares was mentally kicking himself over being grumpy and not seeing the million-galleon opportunity that was the fair. Once he had muted the loud noises and yells from all sides, he quickly understood that this was _the place_ that could pretty well change the scope of his future experiments.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons of all sizes and materials - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver, Gold, Diamond, Self-Stirring, Collapsible - and portable potion kits were arrayed around and within the stand. Ares did not have a lot of love for the subject of Potions. He had been taught the basics and could manage to whip up some medical draughts and elixirs, but that was all he could do. Padfoot himself had made it no secret that he was a half-decent brewer at best, and if Ares wanted to learn Advanced Potion-making, they would need a tutor for the subject. While silver and pewter were the more common cauldrons for majority of potion brewing, there were some specific draughts and elixirs, from _Cassandra White's_ books - Ares thought with a grin - which asked for a gold cauldron. However, there was no immediate requirement and hence the over-expensive cauldron could wait.

There were shops for anything and everything - shops selling animal parts, magical substances, special herbs, practice wands, magical toys and what not. There was one that even sold magical mirrors, and of course, there were shops - con-men, Ares realised - who were proclaiming to sell mythical substances. One of them even held up a _Philosopher's stone,_ wishing to part from it for nineteen thousand galleons. Ares was shocked at first when the man transformed a piece of ordinary copper into gold on touching it with the _stone,_ but his mind clicked as he understood the mechanics behind it.

 _Leprechaun Gold charmed to look like ordinary copper._

"Hey Boy! Boy!"

The sudden shout distracted him as he turned towards the source of the voice. It was another shopkeeper calling at him. "I have something that you would like very much." He took out a tiny vial from within his glass counter, "This is a vial filled with a potion blessed by Lady Fortune herself. One sip and you would be the luckiest person for an hour."

Ares frowned. He hadn't read about any such potion, especially one _blessed_ by Lady Fortune or any other deity. Ignoring the man's shouts, he walked further towards another shop that was selling magical substances, heartstrings, horns and the like. There was a large, over swollen Erumpent horn on the table and the shopkeeper was busy quarrelling with a customer over the price.

According to his books, an Erumpent was a large one-horned animal that looked ostensibly similar to a rhinoceros, except that it was much lighter in body colour and packed an immense amount of strength. The horn was filled with an explosive pus which could explode when shaken violently. Remembering _exactly_ what an Erumpent Horn was, Ares quickly moved away towards the section that sold magical artefacts and prank goods, knowing very well that he would find his father there.

He walked along the section of shops he found himself in, only to stop suddenly as a feeling washed over him. Turning to his left, he found a rather, small tent with an opening at the front. Unlike the other tents, there was no shopkeeper standing outside and shouting at the top of his voice. While his usual modus operandi would be to avoid such a place, he instinctively felt drawn towards the shop. Steeling himself for any confrontation and preparing to draw his wand at the first sign of danger, he walked into the tent

It was a magical artefacts shop, albeit one that kept items of a darker variety, from what he could _feel_. The interior of the tent had been heavily expanded by space expansion charms – Padfoot had explained much of their theory, but it went right over Ares's mind – and there were shelves filled with artefacts. He had long ago grown comfortable trusting his magic and instinct for decisions, and this place reeked of… _strange_ magic. Powerful but strange magic.

"Ah, a customer. What brings you here?" The man replied from behind the counter. The room had a dim lighting, except an opening on one side that allowed bright sunlight to flood in. Ares walked towards the man sitting on the other end of the counter and could, even from a distance, see the bright blue eyes of the man behind a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. For some reason, the man looked incredibly familiar, almost as if he were an old friend whom he had once known but had forgotten.

"I… I just came here looking for… uhm…" Ares found it difficult to explain. Then again, what could he say? That his _magic_ told him to go in and look? It was plain ridiculous. Clearing up his throat, he replied evenly. "I was just checking… if I found anything worth buying."

"Ah." The man had a rather gruff voice. "Very well, come and look." And promptly ignored the young man as he wrote something on the parchment in front of him.

The interior of the tent was rather… Spartan. There were glass boxes, with strange artefacts placed inside them, shrouded in enchanted silk to prevent the innate magic from radiating out. Ares had heard from Cassiopeia about how there were artefacts that could curse you horrifically if you weren't the owner. The sale of magical and mystical artefacts was a part of the underworld, with artefacts bought and sold with millions of galleons changing hands. Aunt Cassie had mentioned a particular case, about an item known as the _Horn of Joshua_ , an artefact that was capable of breaking through _any_ ward for a three hours. Once the artefact was used, it required ten years of rest, buried underground over a magical ley line, for it to recharge. Aunt Cassie had never seen it in action, but it was believed to have be used by the Viking Invaders when they had attacked the shores of Albion in times long past. After a certain skirmish with one of Albion's strongholds, the horn had vanished from history, although Aunt Cassie had heard rumours about a certain Egyptian Arch-mage possessing it.

He moved from one glass box to another, his instincts and magic guiding him, until he had come across what seemed like an old, tattered tome. His magic flared in response as he stared at the tome with an odd feeling. Feeling confused about his reaction, but not willing to ignore his magic, he extended his palm to touch the tome but a proximity ward flared to life, keeping him away. "What…. what's this book?"

The blue-eyed man looked at the tome he was pointing at and his lips parted slightly. "Oh, you wouldn't want to buy that one. It's cursed with deadly magic and written in an obscure language. Perhaps I could interest you in some of the-"

But Ares wasn't listening. His eyes still stared at the book, mere inches beneath his palm, separated by a flimsy proximity ward. "I want to buy this book."

The shopkeeper stared at him for a second longer before replying "If you are sure… but I warn you, I won't be responsible for anything that happens."

Ares fixed him with a stern look. "I wish to buy this book."

"Very well," the old man said in a tone of resignation. "One hundred and seventeen galleons."

"Steep. For something you termed as _useless and horrifically cursed."_

"I'm not lying, boy." The man replied indignantly. "That book is cursed, _and_ written in an obscure language. I am only keeping my profit." He laughed coarsely.

Ignoring the man's laughter, Ares took out his mokeskin pouch and counted the exact amount of money as required and handed it to the man.

"That's a lot of money you are waving around, boy." The man commented cautiously. "Be safe." He flicked his wand and removed the proximity ward, before levitating the tome into a metallic box, with a silk lining inside. "Use it carefully, _if_ you can."

Ares nodded gratefully, picking up the now locked box, and walked out of the tent. His mind was stuck on the tome and the feeling of his magic humming in… he didn't know what the feeling was. The shopkeeper had been rather… peculiar, and Ares couldn't help but feel drawn to the tome he held.

So busy was he, stuck in the myriad of his thoughts, that he didn't even notice when he absently crossed the lane and hit a passer-by, who couldn't keep her balance and fell down on the sand, with a completely unladylike shout.

"Look where you're going," the person, who appeared to be some noble-woman from her very costly robes, chided Ares. "boy!"

"I'm sorry," Ares picked himself up from the ground, rubbing his back with his left shoulder, before he bent down to pick the metal box that had fallen to the ground. "I was distracted."

The woman was too busy staring in the direction of the box to pay any attention to the boy's apologies.

Ares cleared his throat. "Uh…" The woman looked away from the box, and shifted her gaze at him. Ares felt an _odd_ feeling in his stomach. The woman in front of him was very, very pretty, and appeared to be around his father's age. Her golden curls combined with her milky white complexion gave her an ethereal glow. He shrugged off the odd feeling of wanting to look at all of her, not noticing the woman stare at him in curiosity.

"I'm sorry," The woman smiled softly, although there was a sharp look in her eyes. "I was… distracted." Her eyes flickered towards the box in the boy's arm for a moment before she gazed back at him. "How rude of me. What's your name, young man?"

"I am Ares. Ares James Black." Ares replied with a touch of pride and caution.

"Ah." The woman appeared to think for a moment. Looking at Ares, she replied "I am Lady Perenelle Flamel. Pleasure to meet you."

 _Perenelle Flamel?_ Ares thought the name sounded oddly familiar. Like he had heard of it somewhere, but the memory stayed out of his grasp.

The lady appeared amused at his expression, and smiled again. "My husband is Nicholas Flamel, an alchemist…"

Then it hit him. Of course, Perenelle Flamel. Nicholas Flamel. Ancient Alchemist and inventor of the-

"The philosopher's stone." Ares replied with realization.

Perenelle smirked. "Tell me, Master Black, what is someone so… youthful as you, doing all alone, in a place such as this?"

"Oh," Ares paused, "I am here with my father, Lord Sirius Black. He is… there." he replied enthusiastically, as he stared at the approaching figure of his father from his right. A rather loud noise attracted both of them as smoke began to radiate out from one of the shops at the other end of the lane, specifically from the area selling magical substances.

 _Must be the Erumpent horn._ Ares decided.

"Ares, who are you talking to?" Sirius questioned, as he beckoned Ares towards him. His son ran towards him and stood at his side, carrying a black box. Ruffling his hair, he looked at his son.

"That's Lady Perenelle Flamel, Pad—father." Ares exclaimed.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, as he gazed at the woman standing in front of him. Instantly, a wave of magic washed through him, as he felt an _innate wish_ to impress the woman, before he strengthened his occlumentic shields. His Lord-ring glowed gently as it shored up his mental defences.

"Lady Flamel," Sirius walked up to her and offered her his hand. The lady smirked as she calmly placed her palm into his, allowing Sirius to kiss her knuckles. "It's my genuine pleasure to meet you. I am afraid I we have never met before, for I would have recognized your beauty as soon as I laid eyes on you."

Ares smiled at the woman who felt oddly familiar, while Sirius thought he saw a predatory glint in her eyes.

Perenelle smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you in person, Lord Black." Gesturing towards Ares, she said "You have a very earnest child."

Sirius smiled, although it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Forgive me for asking, but it seems you have been spending a lot of time near the tropics." Perenelle asked genially. "I couldn't help but observe."

"We… well, it was more of the Equator than the tropics. Egypt, to be precise." Sirius replied.

"Ah, and I suppose your son got this… box from there?"

"Box? What box?" Sirius asked in confusion, before his eyes darted towards Ares who was holding the metallic box. "Where did you get that, son?"

"I… bought it, from an artefact seller in the fair." Ares answered honestly.

Perenelle smiled primly. "A rather… queer choice, young man. Would you say that the thing inside that box-" she gazed pointedly at the item in his hands, "- _called_ you to it?"

Ares widened his eyes at his dudection, but nodded slowly.

"Curious…" Perenelle regarded him closely, before her attention shifted to Sirius. "If I am not being too forward, Lord Black, may I know why you were spending time in Egypt?"

Sirius considered his answer. One hand, he wanted to keep his excursions a secret. On the other, this was Perenelle Fla…mel. _Hang on, Perenelle Flamel… Idiot._ An idea germinated in his mind, as he composed his answer. "We were looking for a Wardmaster."

Perenelle raised her eyebrows at the answer. "Would not Gringotts be a better option to look for a Wardmaster? They are experts at the art of wards and wardbreaking."

Sirius smiled warmly, hoping that his plan would work. "I am afraid you misinterpreted my reasons, My Lady. I was looking for a tutor for my son."

"Your son…" Perenelle looked thoughtful. She glanced at Ares for a moment in indecision, before she cleared her throat. "Why would a boy as young as your son need tutoring on the subject of Wards?"

"There are… reasons for that. Reasons which I really… couldn't say without precautions in place." Sirius replied with slight wariness in his voice. While the Flamels did not wield their impressive political power and preferred to stay reclusive, he could not help maintaining a wary stance. Albus Dumbledore was known to be a good friend of Nicholas Flamel.

"If you are fearing that I would inform Albus Dumbledore about our meeting, it is for naught, Lord Black." Perenelle replied softly. "Yes, I know about your little… tryst with the Supreme Mugwump. And about the Boy-Who-Lived as well."

Sirius almost grit his teeth.

"However," Perenelle stated, "we are recluses and as much my husband was friends with the _Chief Warlock,_ I can assure you that you have nothing to fear from me."

Sirius could not relax at her words, but he did notice the term she used. _Was friends? Does that mean they are no longer talking to each other?_

Perenelle glanced again at Ares, before speaking. "It is no secret that I am a Wardmaster. That is the very reason why you mentioned your search for tutors." Her eyes flickered over the duo before staring Sirius in the eye. "Perhaps we could continue our conversation at my home. Say… tomorrow at eleven?"

Sirius gathered his wits, as he tried to think of a decent way to ask if it was-

"It's not a trap." Perenelle replied with exasperation.

"Why _offer,_ Lady Flamel? You are one of the most accomplished Wardmasters to have ever lived." Sirius couldn't help but question her bluntly. "What's the catch?"

Perenelle smirked. "Come to my mansion tomorrow, and I will tell you. Also," she glanced at Ares one last time, "bring your son along."

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** **Wow! We've had an overwhelming response to the previous chapter. Seems that people love it when the government baddies get their just reward.**

 **We had long arguments over the chapter, over every bit of minutiae. But we finally had the chapter we both were satisfied. And we know you were as well.**

 **And now for our new addition to the roster:**

 **CASSIOPEIA VIRGO BLACK – FAMKE JANSSEN**

 **PERENELLE FLAMEL – CONNIE NIELSEN**

 **AMELIA BONES –** **CATE BLANCHETT**

 **AUGUSTA LONGBOTTOM – JUDI DENCH**

 **JONATHAN GREENGRASS – COLIN FIRTH**

 **NYMPHADORA TONKS – MEGAN FOX (Don't judge. Considering Tonks is a metamorph, we went with it.)**

 **Our new addition to the family is a rather normal *cough* insane *cough* person. Don't worry, there won't be any sacrificial deaths.**

 **Skadarken: I hope not. The bloodstains were a bitch to clean last time.**

 **As Skad says, we shall be using reasonable characters from this point onwards.**

 **Skadarken: One – Skad is not a good nickname. Two – Don't believe him. His version of reasonable is Bellatrix. On a good day. When it's raining rainbows and bunnies.**

 **As my Ska- fellow author says, I love these fluf-**

 ***Shotgun pellets strike the room***

 **Bellatrix: Why am I not in the story yet?**

 **Skadarken: Shit. You bloody bast-**

 ***Due to medical difficulties, the AN is to be fini-**

 **Bellatrix: Don't you worry yourselves, my pretty little birdies. My boyfriend's coming soon... Hehehehehehe**

 **And now it is time to answer some of the** _ **riddiculus**_ **reviews in Skad's own words…**

 **To Guest who boasted about a Non-existent story: Get a dictionary, find the word "review" under the letter 'R', and understand the meaning of the word. Then come back to FFnet.**

 **Answer to the political guy: You don't like it. Skip it. You're not being paid to read it.**

 **To boban094: please print the fic and put it under an electron microscope. IF you find that Ares was somehow in Little Whinging under the Dursleys or that Dolores sent Dementors from Azkaban to Bulgaria, please let me know. On a side note, please get yourself some prescription glasses and possibly a brain replacement.**

 **To the Amelia ameliorated lover: Please understand that this is not canon. Otherwise, Daphne would be blonde; Not black. In case you couldn't tell, this is AU not canon. The presence of something remarkably similar to Logic should have been a big giveaway.**


	11. Perenelle Flamel

**May 3, 1991.**

"So… Ares. James. Black." Perenelle punctuated each word, seemingly trying to deliver some hidden meaning. "Your father and I have come to an agreement regarding your lessons." Seeing the boy raise his eyebrow at the words and the thoughts flitting through his mind, she smothered a smirk. _You have no idea what you will face, child._ "You shall be taught at the mansion four days a week, with every alternate day to do with as you please. You shall arrive and depart by the portkey I shall procure for you. Beware, any other means of transportation will only result in the wards bouncing you quite some distance off; and that is only because you are keyed into the wards as a guest. A stranger trying to enter my dwelling will be… Let's just say they don't call me a Wardmaster because of my looks."

Ares bobbed his head, wondering where this was going.

Yesterday, during their meeting at the fair, Lady Flamel had provided them with a portkey that would take them to Flamel Mansion this morning. While Ares had not planned on asking her for lessons, Pad had convinced him that they would not find a better Wardmaster than Perenelle Flamel. He was still reluctant to take up the offer; considering the turn his last meeting with a Wardmaster took. However, Pad had managed to convince him, telling him that Lady Flamel had centuries of knowledge and could be of excellent help with his experiments. While his father did look rather pained at the words, Ares had grinned in delight, wondering at all the spells he could get his hands on.

This morning, the portkey had transported him and his father to the gardens surrounding _Flamel Mansion_ , where Perenelle Flamel stood waiting for them. After the initial greetings, his father and Flamel had sent him, via house elf, into the public library in the Manor while they discussed the arrangements. While he wanted to have a say in what he was taught, Pad had firmly put his foot down and told him that the agreement was between the adults. While he had agreed grudgingly, all thoughts of the agreement flew out of his mind once he laid eyes on the library.

The library, while not the personal collection of the Flamels, was two storeys tall and held hundreds of books. The light blue walls and the bright light streaming in through the windows only served to highlight the vast expanse of knowledge. Grinning to himself at the thought of obtaining access, Ares had immediately bounded off towards the shelves. While the shelves were not filled with long lost tomes, there were several books he had thought lost to the decades or at the hands of governments. He had grabbed a few and occupied an armchair to begin skimming through the pages.

He was fully immersed in a book on druidic magic when Perenelle had entered the library to inform him about his new apprenticeship.

Acknowledging his nod with one of her one, Perenelle continued speaking. "Your father and I agreed that I would take you as my apprentice. I will be teaching you everything you need to own to obtain a mastery of Wards and Ward-breaking. I shall pass on the knowledge of the wards of the old days, and those employed by the various thaumaturgical systems of the world. You will learn the nature of such wards and the skill and power required to handle them, both of the basal and esoteric variety. However, I need you to answer one simple question."

"Which is?" Ares couldn't help but ask. He did love her offer. Not only was she offering to teach him all her knowledge on the subject, she was also going to teach him those which were lost to history. He was happy; but her last sentence had put him on edge.

"What is it that _you desire_?" Perenelle asked, drawling the words out at the end.

"Excuse me?" Ares looked confused. "I want to learn warding like my father-"

"Enough with the evasions!" Perenelle replied, a touch of exasperation lining her otherwise ethereal voice. Seeing the confusion on the boy's face, she turned around and walked across the room to the window. Staring at the cloudless sky, she said "You father has mentioned - rather evasively, I might add - about a _condition_ that makes it necessary for you to become as powerful as possible in a very short amount of time." She paused. "Now, normally one would think that it is because you are the _Boy-Who-Lived_ and there might be extremists who would want you dead out of spite, but something tells me that it is not the reason you are being _weaponized_."

Pausing her words, she turned to face Ares and asked "So, I will ask you again. What is it that you really desire? Why must you grow stronger than most adult wizards before you even obtain your OWL's? Why should you learn a skill as intricate and difficult as Warding when most children your age barely learn to levitate a feather?"

Ares had immediately raised his Occlumency shields to prevent his emotions from showing on his face. They weren't too strong yet - He was only a budding level three Occlumens at this moment, and that too was because he could use his magic to reinforce his mental fortitude.

The woman facing him was slightly… odd; he knew that back at the fair. He did not know how, but he knew she was odd. She moved and talked with the grace of nobility, but there _was_ something that set her apart from the rest of the world. And it frustrated him that he could not put his finger on the _why_.

"I'm… not sure what you mean, Ma'am." Ares hedged, not wanting to give away anything.

Perenelle smirked at the poor attempt at evasion and turned back to face the sky. "You have a long way to go, little Ares. You have not answered my questions. Besides, you do wish to gain the power you seek, do you not? Why else would you _seek_ the tome you held in your hands during our meeting yesterday?"

Ares thanked his stars that he had good grasp of Occlumency, or his shock would have shown on his face. Keeping his voice carefully neutral, he said "It was a simple book, Lady Flamel. Nothing to be exci-"

Perenelle spun around, her features twisted in exasperation and eyes hard as steel. "Don't play games with me, boy. I _know_ the tome you held. It _lured_ you in. It _recognized_ the blood in you and _called_ you in to take its possession. Didn't it?"

Ares stared at the woman, trying very, _very_ hard to not admit it to himself, that despite training for over half his life, there was something about Perenelle Flamel that made him want to run for the hills, his proverbial tail tucked between his legs.

Steeling himself from the urge to flee, he looked at her in the eyes. He wondered how she would know of the tome and the circumstances behind his acquisition of said tome.

"How… how do you know that?" He asked slowly.

Perenelle ignored his question. "Have you… perchance, managed to open the tome?"

Ares nodded slowly.

Perenelle narrowed her eyes at the boy and asked "Did you read the name?"

Ares stared at her, expression neutral, and nodded. "I couldn't read the words. The entire book is written in some language I've never seen before."

Perenelle widened her eyes momentarily before her expression blanked out. "I… see." She seemed to ponder the next words. Giving him a quick onceover, she said "However, that doesn't mean that I don't know who _you_ are, _Heir of Slytherin_."

Eyes widening in shock, and not without a little bit of fear, Ares looked at her in the eye. Eyes and mind scanned the library for available escape routes as he prepared to draw his wand, knowing full well that the wards surrounding the Manor would kill him if he tried to harm the owners. Shoving the fear to the back of his mind, he asked "How do you know that?"

If she noticed his shift in demeanour, Perenelle did not comment. She merely raised an eyebrow at the question. "I am _over six hundred years old_ , _young heir_. I believe I can safely say that I have seen and heard a lot of things in my life."

Ares subtly shifted, ready to flee. "That still doesn't explain how you know."

Perenelle smirked at the boy in front of her. "No, it doesn't. For the moment, it does not matter. Now, if you _are_ the heir of Slytherin, you must be facing the problems the previous two Lords had encountered."

Still tensed, Ares looked at her for any sign of falsehood, but found none. Which wasn't surprising considering he was dealing with someone who had centuries on him. It rankled him that he could not get answers from her, but she did know about his situation and could, perhaps, show a solution. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he looked at her with a quiet resolve. "Parasitic Family Magic."

"Precisely." Perenelle intoned. "That tome, which you are so ignorant of, is one of the most priceless treasures in the world; The _lost Slytherin Grimoire,_ said to have been stolen around fifteen hundred years ago."

Ares gaped in absolute disbelief. Sometimes, he really hated his stupid luck. If it wasn't finding an answer for a spell, it was landing a priceless tome in his hands _without his knowledge_. _Argh! Somebody out there must be laughing at me right now._

Perenelle smiled in amusement. "It is called the… _Oghma Infinium_.Over the centuries, the lure of the tome and the ancient knowledge present within the pages has drawn the attention of treasure hunters, goblin curse-breakers and archaeologists alike."

Shaking off his shock for the being – he could find a corner to shut down later – Ares asked "If it is the _Slytherin Grimoire,_ why can't _I_ read it?"

"Because you aren't _worthy_ yet." Perenelle answered.

 _Worthy?_ Her words resonated deep within the mind of Ares as a flash of _something_ – almost a memory - the sensation of having heard the words before. They hung on the tip of his tongue, but for some reason, he dismally failed when he tried to remember it. A better question came up, as he stared at her.

"And how do _you_ know that?" At Perenelle's scowl, Ares suppressed his urge to grimace. "Right. Six hundred years and all that." He rubbed the back of his head as he continued, "Can you tell me _how_ I can become…um, worthy?"

"When you are powerful enough to wield the Slytherin Magic." Perenelle answered briskly.

"I haven't wielded the Slytherin magic, but I have… well, held it. It's strange." Ares said, resisting the urge to scratch the back of his neck.

Perenelle's eyes turned to slits. "Prove it." Her voice was positively hissing at the end.

Ares closed his eyes. As always, he focused his senses on his core. Unlike the perception of the general public, a magical core was not some glowing sun that was located in the chest. It was a continuous stream of energy that flowed through the body along metaphysical nervous system responsible for the flow of magic through the body. Focusing on said core gave a mage conscious awareness of the magic flowing through their body. With enough practice, and experience, a mage could always be in tune with their flow.

While Ares did not have the experience necessary to maintain a constant awareness of his power, he could consciously focus on the flow, allowing him to manipulate it to a certain degree. Focusing on the stream, he pushed his intent towards the stream. Once he felt his magic respond, he opened his eyes to the killing curse green of the Slytherin Magic coiled around his upper body. Looking up at Perenelle, he asked, near snarky in tone. "Proof enough for you?"

"Yes. Very" Perenelle's eyes gleamed with some unidentifiable emotion as she stared transfixed at the aura swirling around the descendant of a long lost lineage. "I'm sorry for doubting you." The clipped and harsh tones of her voice were abandoned. "Despite your… ability to wield the magic, you have still been judged unworthy by the _Grimoire_. Perhaps we will find out the answer."

Ares stared at her. _Bloody hell! She never gave a straight answer._ There was more going on here and he was going to find out what.

Oblivious to his inner thoughts, Perenelle continued speaking. "That brings us back to my initial query. Your father has stated how you have an _affinity_ to offensive magic. He also mentioned your prodigal ability to wield Dark Magic, displayed under the tutelage of a _fancy_ teacher."

Ares inwardly smirked. The Lady Flamel had no idea about how _fancy_ his Dark Arts teacher was.

"Your father-" Perenelle continued. "-wants me to teach you Wards and ward-breaking. However, as useful as Warding is for learning to manipulate one's own magic, there are other… unorthodox methods of learning magic-manipulation while also _amplifying_ your power."

Ares was now giving her his fullest attention. "Like Rituals?" Ares asked, his ears perked up. "of which I know nothing about."

Perenelle smirked. The boy would learn to hide things with time. He was still far too transparent. "Rituals and other forms of esoteric magics that have been declared so _dangerous_ that anyone found practicing them are immediately executed."

"I didn't know that either." Ares interrupted.

"However, such magics are _almost_ extinct in the modern world, and are classified as forbidden by magical governments the world over. The reason they are classified as such is because only those with a thorough understanding of the ancient arts may use them without unleashing an army of corpses or accidentally loose wild hellfire."

"That I did know." Ares interrupted again, ignoring his mind's attempts to remind him of his experiments on _wild Fiendfyre_.

Perenelle wanted to yell at the irritant in front of her but she suppressed the urge. "Yes." She replied, a chill seeping into her voice. "However, all modesty aside, I am an _expert_ on such matters and can impart my knowledge and skill in them to yo-"

"But there is a catch." Ares interrupted again.

"A favour. Yes." Perenelle forced a smile on her face. "I will do all I can to turn you into the most feared mage in modern history - far more powerful than you need to _stabilize_ your Slytherin Family Magic." She almost sneered at the end, "But you will need to grant me a favour after the end of your apprenticeship, when I ask for it."

Ares looked sceptical. "How do I know that the favour wouldn't be something like… making me give you control over my Family Magics or even worse, make me your slave or something?"

Perenelle supressed a snort. "If it helps, the favour that I need you to do is to help me cast _one single spell_. I assure you, it is not my intention to cause any kind of harm to you, magically, physically or emotionally."

Ares narrowed his eyes. His tendency to behave as a petulant child was a rather… _nice_ way for him to manipulate adults to lose their cool and give out more info than they usually would. Padfoot had said that, apparently, he was like Grandfather Arcturus in that manner.

"Can you swear an oath on it?"

Perenelle swore the oath without comment. Years later, Ares would understand that it was only a testament to Perenelle Flamel's magical strength that she did not require a wand or a bonder as the powerful oath held, the sealing magic flaring out of her vividly.

Ares did not comment.

Perenelle eyed the _not-so-innocent ten-year-old_ cautiously. Her new apprentice did hold onto several childish tendencies, but those emerald eyes hid an intelligence rarely seen at his age. "You do understand that in order for me to teach you all I can, you have to be my oath-sworn apprentice. It means that, as long as you are my apprentice, you cannot share the knowledge I impart to you, either willingly or not."

 _Padfoot…_ Ares realised. It meant that he would be keeping secrets from his father. His original instinct was to yell _"BOLLOCKS"_ and walk out, but the two years of tutelage under Aunt Cassie had given him better control of his impulsive tendencies. He had also _observed_ that while his father was willing to allow him to learn powerful magic, there _were_ lines that his father would never allow him to cross. Lines that Ares knew he would have to ignore if he were to truly become one of the most accomplished Masters of the Magical Arts. Unnoticed by him, the greenish hue around his magical core closed in just a tad tighter.

"What if…. my father or anyone else comes to know about what I have been learning?" Ares asked, no longer behaving as a petulant kid. "Unintentional on my part, I mean."

Perenelle smirked. "We will worry about the issue when it arises."

Ares grinned. "In that case, I agree to grant you the favour, conditional on me completing the apprenticeship." He held his white wand and swore the apprentice oath which took effect as soon as a bluish sheen radiated out of him. "What will you be teaching me?"

Perenelle smirked. "We are going to develop your mental faculties first to ensure you understand what you are taught, and then… Once you are ready, we will begin to bath in eternal fire, bargain with devils and dance with Death."

* * *

Under his pact with Lady Flamel, Ares's life had taken a major shift in its course. Ever since the day they had learnt what possession of the Slytherin Family Magic meant for Ares, he and Pad had spent countless hours trying to understand his condition and tried every method they could to quickly _stabilize_ the Magic before it consumed his inheritance. All his training with Pad, his experiments into power amplification and strengthening, even his training in the Dark Arts; all of it was devoted to that objective.

Under the tutelage of Perenelle Flamel, that which had previously been only a means to help stabilize his Slytherin Family magic had become an objective far more ambitious. Every alternate day, Ares would visit the Flamel Mansion using the portkey issued by Perenelle, and spend his time developing his mind arts and improving his theoretical ability on his previously studied subjects until six in the evening after which he would return home to Black Manor.

The other days would be spent with his father, either improving his duelling technique or studying various subjects such as Transfiguration, charms and potions. Despite Sirius's attempts to push him out of the Manor to have fun beyond his studies, Ares's concept of having fun was interpreted as performing experiments on magical spells and concepts, experiments that more than often resulted in scorch marks, burns and nearly demolishing entire rooms. Understandably, Kreacher hated the young Master with a passion; especially when he wasn't feeling proud of having a Master well-versed in the magics that House Black was actually notorious for.

At the end of the day, Perenelle Flamel proved to be a notorious taskmaster. No wait, scratch that, she was a slave-driver. She had all but refused to teach him anything until he had developed his mindscape and shields to become an adept third-level Occlumens. While Aunt Cassie had merely mentioned an obscure method to develop his mental defences, Madame Flamel had outright demanded that he practiced using the same. That had been a rather… illuminating discussion.

"The usual method of developing Occlumency shields involves a lot of meditation and concentrated focus on finding your mental shields and learning to develop them. While the method is known to help one create suitable defences to protect one's mind, it is not an effective path to help one defend against high-powered Legilimency attacks. A fourth-level Legilimens would tear through the shields as though they were mere parchment."

Looking at the boy in front of her, Perenelle continued her lesson. "The sorcerers of antiquity had another approach, one that would seem highly unorthodox and extreme to you. You might not want to approach your training in this manner, but… if you do choose to go through it, and maintain your sanity, you will never have to fear for the secrets in your mind again."

"And what… is this unorthodox way?" Ares asked, not without some trepidation. The two of them were seated in armchairs opposite each other in the public library of _Flamel Mansion._

Perenelle glanced at him with a strange expression. "It has long been theorized that magic is just like any muscle in the body. Once the skill is developed – no matter how rudimentary it may be – it is ingrained into your body. I believe the term used is 'muscle memory'. The greater time and effort spent in developing said skill, more effective does the body become in using said skill." Steeping her palms on her lap, she leaned forward. "Based on this premise, it is theorized that even the most rudimentary of Occlumency shields could become capable of repelling high-powered Legilimency attacks."

"Oh."

"Be warned. There are… issues in pursuing this path." Perenelle replied as an afterthought.

From his experiences with her methods, Ares knew well that rejecting the technique was not an option. Perenelle Flamel never gave anyone a choice – you merely had the illusion of choice. If Perenelle Flamel wanted you to do something, you did it - whether by hook or by crook.

Ares nodded in response. "What… kind of issues?"

"Well," Perenelle drawled. "for one, it requires a person to have a higher pain threshold. One must be able to hold his emotions under control despite being exposed to his most horrible nightmares."

Ares widened his eyes. "And what if… what if the person loses control?"

"They waste their time writhing on the floor, crying in agony, still being forced to relive their most painful and humiliating memories."

"Right…" Ares replied, wondering if he would get through this with his sanity intact.

Perenelle smiled with thinly veiled amusement. "I should also inform you that apart from making your shields stronger, this method does not help you in any other aspect of Occlumency. You will still need to pursue the traditional methods to gain the benefits that a complete training confers. If you don't, you will remain a third-level Occlumens, albeit one with highly powerful defences."

"Oh." That was all Ares had to say. He really hoped he'd be in one piece at the end of his apprenticeship.

* * *

That was how Ares found himself on the floor, doing his very best to not yell out in agony, as he was forced to live his nightmares; watching his parents die over and over, hearing that dry, cold laughter as the green light of the killing curse snuffed the life out of his mother, his Pad being kidnapped and tortured in front of him, even his Aunt Cassie appeared mutilated in them and worst of all, was the all-encompassing darkness that surrounded him in a field of depressing fury. On the third continuous week 0f getting exposed to such attacks, _something_ snapped in him.

The hot, bubbling rage that usually manifested when he was angered had died. A cold, freezing blizzard of _hate_ had replaced it.

The next day, he had managed to fend off his tutor's Legilimency attacks for over forty minutes before succumbing to magical exhaustion.

* * *

"You were acceptable, I suppose." Ares's tutor drawled. "We will begin your education on the theory of the esoteric arts. From your memories, it seems you have a _decent_ grounding in the Dark Arts. I am not sure if you are aware of it, but parts of your mindscape are either hidden or sealed. Did you know that?"

Ares nodded. "Secrecy oaths, and memory-locking charms."

Perenelle raised an eyebrow. What the boy could possibly have discovered to resort to such measures was beyond her. Then again, this was not just another child she was dealing with.

Ares got up from the floor of the library, cleared the dust on his robes with a wave of his wand and fidgeted on his feet. Appearing to steel himself, he looked up and said "Madame Flamel…?"

"Yes?" Perenelle answered, wondering what the boy wanted.

"I was wondering when I would be able to learn Legilimency." said Ares.

"Ah." Perenelle deadpanned. "And what do you think Legilimency is?"

Ares tilted his head and replied "It is the generic opposite of Occlumency, as per as the texts I have studied." His intuition warned him he was dead wrong.

Proving his instincts were true, Perenelle frowned. "Wrong!"

Ares looked confused. "Isn't Legilimency the offensive side of the Mind Magic?"

Perenelle pursed her lips. It seemed like the boy needed to be freed of some critically stupid information first. "First, do not use the term 'Mind Magic' to describe what you are studying. The arts and powers of the human mind are far too diverse to be put in simple categories like Occlumency and Legilimency."

Ares nodded. Internally, he groaned at the feeling at his tutor would be correcting most of his known theory on obscure arts.

Seeing the boy nod in affirmation, Perenelle continued her lecture. "Legilimency is a form of offensive mental art, Yes. Legilimency is the generic opposite of Occlumency? NO."

"No?" asked Ares.

"NO." Perenelle deadpanned.

"Okay."

Perenelle suppressed a smirk at the boy's expression. "The simplest and correct explanation of the relationship between Occlumency and Legilimency is that the two arts complement, not contradict one another. I do understand your confusion in the distinction, especially when you consider most _wizards_ -" she sneered at the word. "-consider Legilimency as a brute force attack that is designed to rape the secrets from the mind of a target."

"What else can we do with them?" Ares looked excited.

"You would like to know, wouldn't you…" Perenelle smirked, as she wandlessly summoned a tome on esoteric magical theory and handed it to Ares. "I am not going to teach you spell craft, neither will I teach you any form of magical combat. You will study this text, perform research using the tomes from the Family libraries available to you. Depending on the situation, you might receive permission to peruse my library at my discretion."

Ares looked like someone had banned him from experimenting for an entire year. "But…"

"No buts." Perenelle replied. "Teaching you spells or duelling is useless. You can find dozens of tutors around the word. And you have far more knowledge than most, right at your fingertips."

Ares had visibly wilted. "But your library wi-"

"Enough!' Perenelle snapped. "You are a descendant to three Great Ancient families. The Potters and their ancestors can be traced back to the time of the Greeks, before the Roman empire even existed. They were one of the major strongholds and guardians of the Kingdom of Albion under the Pendragon banner."

"The Blacks trace their lineage to the founding of the early Egyptian dynasties, some of the most advanced practitioners of Soul and Necromantic magics and considered to possess one of the most comprehensive knowledge bases on the vilest of such magics. There is a reason why the people of Camelot referred to them as the Black sorcerers – practitioners of a magic so foul that even the greatest Dark Arts of the era could be likened to mere battle-magic. That is how the House of Black came into existence."

She paused for a moment before continuing, "Finally, the family of Slytherin could trace their origins from the mystical land of Shamballa deep within the gorging Himalayas, a place as old as the earth itself. You have access to libraries that most masters would kill for. As an heir to three ancient lines, it would be rather disgraceful to search for answers from my personal collection and condemning your own as inferior."

"I am not condemning them. I was just-"

Perenelle raised her hand, ending the line of conversation. "If your father will _not allow_ you to peruse through the finer sections of the Black library, then I am afraid you will have to exercise subtlety. After all, you are THE Heir of Black."

Ares widened his eyebrows. "You read my mind." There was accusation in his voice. He was both shocked and afraid that she could read his mind like an open book, without triggering his defences.

"I did." Perenelle did not deny it.

"But I - my shields are fully active… and I didn't feel a thing." Ares stuttered, half in awe and half in fear that despite all the labour, someone could just get past his shields without his knowledge. It was a very humbling thought.

An eyebrow raise was the only reaction from Perenelle. "I am a natural Legilimens, and I have been honing my skill over my entire life. A _natural Legilimens_ is capable of feats that no mere practitioner of the art could ever achieve in their life."

"But… I mean…" Ares stammered.

"The struggle to be the best is a constant uphill battle. With your current skill, you are capable of defeating scores of witches and wizards. But every once in a while, there will be an opponent who will ignore your ability like a dragon ignores a pixy." Perenelle replied calmly. "Understand this, Ares Black. You cannot be the best in everything. Strive to be the best you can be."

"Do you mean that?" Ares replied slowly.

Perenelle replied in the affirmative. "I do. You have a natural affinity for offensive magic, particularly the Dark Arts. You do not have the natural inclination for Legilimency. However, do not let it deter you. The Slytherin line has been extensively blessed with natural affinity in the mental arts."

Ares seemed crushed at her words. If the Slytherin line was known for the Mind Arts and he did not possess the affinity… _Then my magic must be so weak that-_

"ENOUGH!" Perenelle thundered. "The gifts you have been blessed with are out of your control. The only control you possess is in your ability and effort to hone the gifts given to you. Besides, when you have finished your apprenticeship under me, maybe you could go ahead and find a Slytherin heirloom that had been stolen centuries ago. A theft, that took…" Perenelle paused for a moment. "-everything from your family."

"What do you mean?" Ares asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Salazar Slytherin, the thirty-third Lord of the Slytherin family, and, possibly, the most powerful Legilimens the world has ever seen, dabbled in arcane blood magic to create an artefact, a locket embedded with the Slytherin family insignia. The bearer of the locket could, apparently, wield Salazar's own unparalleled power of Legilimency. However, the locket can only be used by someone who shares his blood."

Ares's eyes widened at the words before gleaming in excitement. "You mean… that if I could possibly get my hands on-"

"Your tendency to jump to conclusions will someday bring you ruin, Ares Black." Perenelle replied swiftly. "Irrespective of the power the locket holds, and the family it belongs to, you should never forget that all artefacts are governed by rules and a price. There is nothing in this world that does not have a price, not even magic. Never forget this."

"Oh." Ares replied sullenly, his voice a little timid after being chastised by his tutor. Her words held far too much warning for him to ignore it. He did not have the courage to ask the unanswered question.

Seeing that he had understood, Perenelle said "Now put the tome aside and listen. This is esoteric magical theory, and thus, I demand your undivided attention."

Ares put the tome on the coffee table beside him and occupied a position on the floor. Shoving all thoughts and distracting question to the back of his mind, he focused on his tutor.

Perenelle stood in front of Ares to start her lecture. "Magic," she began, "unlike what the ICW would like people to believe, is primarily of two kinds, basal arts and the esoteric arts. Majority of the witches and wizards go through their entire lives, experiencing only the basal arts. It has several names; Transfiguration, charms, potions, Herbology, combat-magic - whatever people call them, they are classified under the basal arts, mainly because said arts possess well-documented arithmantic equations and rely on the use of magical foci. They are called forth through incantations, require certain motions of foci and have a fixed effect; the effect may vary in intensity or property, but it remains the same, in principle. Even the vast majority of what people consider Dark Arts fall under this category."

"What about the Unforgivables?" Ares questioned.

Perenelle waved her hand. "No difference. The Unforgivables, much like the Patronus charm, is powered more by intent than the incantation. However, they too fall under the same category."

Ares thought over the words, digesting their meaning before nodding his head.

Knowing her student had comprehended the meaning she meant to convey, Perenelle said "The other school of magic, the esoteric arts, are far more flexible and do not possess the limitations of the basal arts. Here, magic is a constant ever-changing, mutating force free from the restrictions of incantation and foci. Every question has an infinite number of answers and all of them are the correct ones."

Ares was puzzled. How can there be infinite correct answers to a single question? He cleared his throat. "Then how do we know which answer to choose?"

"We choose the most apt." Perenelle smirked. "Understand this, Ares Black, Esoteric arts are the closest we have ever come to understanding magic in its purest form. There is nothing, nothing that you cannot create, gain or reach using it. All you need is a proper understanding of principles underlying them." Pausing for a moment, she asked "Tell me, Ares. You would have studied _something_ on the subject. Do you know the way it works?"

"The way it works?" Ares repeated.

Perenelle nodded. "Do you know the law of equivalence?"

Ares nodded. Aunt Cassie had drilled that principle into his head. "Every action that produces something cost something of equal value."

Perenelle frowned at the answer. "Incorrect, or rather… inadequate. Esoteric magic cannot be measured in fixed quantities like matter or energy. The costs accrued in such magic cannot be unquantified: every thought, desire, hope, dream, intent, even the very subconscious must be taken into account when dealing with the arts. The sacrifice must not only be magically equal; it must negate the effects of the cost required."

"I don't understand."

Perenelle smiled. "Do you know what the Philosopher's' stone does?"

"Yes." Ares smiled. "It renders a person to the prime of health, and is supposed to grant life as long as one continues to drink the elixir of life."

Perenelle allowed a shadow of a smirk to float on her lips for a moment. "Now apply the principle of equivalence."

Ares thought hard on her words. _Every magic has a cost attached to it. Now, the stone is supposed to lengthen the lifespan of the person drinking the elixir. Now, I know we can't make an actual human being. So, the stone can't just make_ life _. But it can't bring a person back from the dead. Wait, what about the cost? If the stone is giving life, then the equivalent cost would be…_

Looking up at his teacher, he gulped upon realising the answer.

Perenelle smiled predatorily. "Moving on… We will be discussing the principle of equivalence in detail, because it is the bedrock for all branches of esoteric magic."

Ares nodded dumbly, not wanting to think on the cost the Flamels paid for their long life.

"Esoteric magic is raw, free, ever-changing and eternal. You are dealing with that which has no fixed form or substance and there is nothing, absolutely _nothing_ in the world that can help you apply the standard laws to it." Perenelle explained. "There is a section among the Dark Arts, which could be classified as esoteric, but it has very few applications."

Ares nodded at the words, mind still buzzing at the revelation he had arrived at.

"While you will often find scholars trying to branch esoteric magic out into different forms, ultimately, it all comes down to three different forms - rituals, necromancy and the illusory arts. The Slytherin magics is ritual-based, while the Black ancestry goes deep into the field of the illusory arts."

"And Necromancy?" asked Ares. He saw an expression pass across Perenelle's face, but he could decipher it.

Composing herself, Perenelle replied "Only one family, I think… plumbed the deepest depths of necromancy." She paused for a moment. "Peverell."

"Is it just a coincidence that all three of my ancestors dealt in esoteric magics?" Ares asked, numbed by the revelation.

"Not really," Perenelle replied offhandedly. "All Family Magic is esoteric, although it would not be wrong to say that coincidentally, your ancestry goes deeper down the path of forbidden magics than most do. Then again, you do not see an heir to three Great families every day."

Ares gulped, but said nothing.

Noticing the uncomfortable expression on his face, Perenelle decided to soothe him a little. "If it helps you feel any better, the Family Magic of those with Viking ancestry is mostly battle- and blood-magic. The _Gaunts_ -" she flashed a sneer. "-had blood-magic and necromancy, while the Le-Fay line was blessed with illusory and psychic powers."

Ares felt much better at the answer. Knowing his Magic wasn't that special did sooth him in an odd way.

Reading his improvement in mood, Perenelle said "As I previously mentioned, I will not be teaching you how to fight, nor will I teach you spells. Together, we will swim through the ocean of ritualistic magic, understanding what you need to sacrifice to become what you intend to be."

 _The greatest sorcerer of all time._ Ares repeated to himself.

* * *

"Madame Flamel?"

"Yes, Ares?"

 _Why are you so cynical?_ Ares thought inwardly.

Perenelle smirked at the boy's antics.

The two of them were seated in the parlour of her manor. The room was painted a deep white with simple, but subtle decorative sconces attached to the walls. A black wood fireplace occupied the wall opposite the twin windows facing the gardens. Elegant but tasteful cream furniture occupied the middle of the parlour and faced the fireplace. Perenelle was seated on the couch, reading a novel and Ares occupied the loveseat, a heavy tome in his hands.

Perenelle looked at the open page in his book and shifted her gaze to his eyes. A year had passed since Ares had started his apprenticeship. The boy was well on his way to mastering his abilities and his knowledge over certain aspects of esoteric magic was nothing less than phenomenal. The boy was now a fourth-level Occlumens with a rudimentary mind-palace, slowly working his way towards attaining perfect memory-recall, though. His Legilimency was hardly of second-level, not-bad for someone of his age, and without any natural affinity for the subject. The boy had deliberately _thought_ of his question instead of verbalising it, knowing extremely well that she could _read_ his thoughts. This situation had become a private joke between them.

Choosing to answer his question, she said "When you have lived as long as I have, you have no option but to be cynical. Everyone has an agenda."

 _I wonder what your agenda is…_ Ares couldn't help but think.

Perenelle smiled predatorily. "My agenda is…. complicated, and you will know it when the time arrives."

 _Still…_ Ares drawled. _You can tell me something about yourself. I mean, I am under secrecy oath._

Perenelle frowned for a moment. She mulled over her words before answering his query. "Before I met Nicholas, I had another life, another name, another identity." She looked nostalgic as she continued. "Our family was always accomplished in esoteric arts; our only rivals being another family in the land."

 _Okay._ Ares answered, feeling odd about the way his tutor was being so evasive with the names. _So, did you know anyone from the Slytherin family back then?_

Perenelle smiled nostalgically. "Yes. I did." She looked away for a moment. "My brother gave my hand in marriage to a son of the other family, hoping to end the rivalry. However, there were some… problems, and my _husband_ …" She bit out the word. Ares wisely decided to keep his mouth shut. "Well, he did something unforgivable." Her expression one of deepest loathing. "His actions… destroyed my family, ending my father's line forever. I left, swearing vengeance on my husband's family, although I am yet to fulfil my vows that I took over the ashes of my home." She appeared to looking through time, her eyes glimmering slightly.

Ares watched her with curiosity, trying to figure out what might have happened, and who the families might have been. Then again, watching her own family die would affect anyone, he supposed. While he loved Padfoot as his father, a traitorous part of his mind couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like to have grown up with James and Lily Potter. Still, he did wonder what could have happened to bring _Perenelle Flamel_ to tears.

Awakening from the nightmare, Perenelle shifted her gaze to stare into the eyes of her student. "My brother believed in my husband. They were… friends, and my husband backstabbed him, betrayed him and my family had to pay the price. It was then I realised what people were; they would always, _always_ care about themselves, no matter the _cost paid by others_. This… _cynicism_ , as you say, has helped me survive the centuries."

"Oh." Ares murmured. She did look rather sad talking about her family. It was the same look Pad shared when he talked about his days as a Marauder, days spent at Potter cottage or the time he spent talking about grandfather Arcturus. While he could not understand what his father went though, he did try to help. staring up at his teacher, he thought he could extend the same courtesy. After all, despite the harsh training and even harsher words, she had never put him in true danger. Sure, she was guarded about her motives, but then, everyone had their secrets. Maybe, someday, she would trust him enough to share them.

Smiling at the person he did not yet know he considered a friend, Ares said "Well, if you ever need any help or anything… let me know."

Ignoring his thoughts and the innocence of his words, Perenelle smirked. "You can help me in more ways than you think you know."

* * *

"I don't understand this, Madame Flamel." Ares said.

Perenelle raised an eyebrow. "And that is?"

Ares was always impressed at the way she could raise a single eyebrow. It was rather difficult and most people could never do it. Returning to his question, he asked "What's so… _unforgivable_ about Unforgivables? I mean, there are hundreds of ways of killing people without using the Unforgivables, if that's the point."

Perenelle smirked. A year and a half had passed since the boy first entered the manor and Ares had now grown under her tutelage. He had come far; he was no longer the clumsy little kid who had bumped into her at the fair. It had taken hard work and patience - lots and _lots_ of patience on _her end_ \- but slowly and steadily, the boy had mastered the theory and concepts behind the intricate arts of blood magic and rituals. Now, the time was nearing for Perenelle to set the stage for his ascension.

"Ares," she asked, "you have studied and mastered ancient theory and magics and are currently working your way through forbidden lore. Why this… _inquisition_ about something so _puny_ as the Unforgivables?"

Ares frowned at her question, but replied quickly. "I will answer, but could you… tell me about them? _Please?_ "

Perenelle stared hard at him. Strangely, she did not use her Legilimency to delve into his mind, something Ares was grateful for. Over the past few months, he had at least developed the sense to know if she was in his mind, or not. That had taken quite a bit of work.

Wondering if he was up to another experiment – Magic help her if it was – Perenelle said "The reason why they are called _Unforgivables_ is not because they are deadly. You are right, one can maim or kill with any spell; imagination and adaptability being the only limits. The reason they are called _the Unforgivables_ is because you cannot cast one without intending to. _"_

"What do you mean?" Ares asked, mulling over her words.

Sometimes, Perenelle wished she could put a permanent sticking charm to his lips. He interrupted far too much when it came to explanations on magic. "It means that the curses will work when, _and only when_ the caster throws the spell fuelled by their _intent_. If the caster tried to throw an unforgivable without the intent necessary to fuel it, it will fail. If the target of the curse dodges the spell and the curse strikes someone else… Hypothetically, they should be unharmed."

Ares's eyes bulged out at the revelation. "So I cannot kill someone with the killing curse by mistake?"

Perenelle narrowed her eyes at his question. There was more behind the words, but she chose to wait, rather than pluck the answer from his mind. He had gotten a lot better at defending against her intrusions. "You can't, at least that is the theory so far."

Ares drew a breath of elation. Perenelle noticed the odd reaction but refrained from commenting on it.

Shifting his gaze back to his tutor, he asked "What about the other two?"

Perenelle pursed her lips as she gathered her words. "The Cruciatus, as unlikely as it might seem, works on the principle of illusory magics. It _induces_ a potential flaring in the victim's nerves, sending them into the throes of pain. However, the pain is just an _illusion,_ and the only organ of the body that truly suffers from it is the _mind_. That is why the worst possible effect of the Cruciatus is permanent insanity and brain damage, not atrophy of the nerves."

"Ah." Ares realised. Padfoot had mentioned the Longbottoms, allies in Britain; specifically, about how Frank and Alice Longbottom, had been tortured to mental insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black using the Cruciatus.

"TheImperius is slightly different, and employs a form of focussed Legilimency to bend the victim to the caster's _will._ The advantage of the Imperius is that the caster does not need to be a master of Legilimency to perform it, although he does need a strong will to overcome their victim's mental resistance and dominate the mind."

"Whoa." Ares reacted. He had never really thought of the Imperius curse that way.

Perenelle smirked. "The disadvantage is that unlike _Legilimency,_ the _Imperius_ is a spell and hence, has its own signature, and can be detected and traced to its source."

Ares frowned. The magical signature kind of spoiled it all.

Perenelle walked up to him. "Now tell me, Ares Black. What is going on in that anarchic mind of yours?"

"Nothing." Ares murmured. He knew she was serious the second she used his full name. Well… at least two-thirds of his name.

Perenelle raised an eyebrow.

Ares looked away. He was going to either tell it himself, or she would up his training to a whole new level. Taking a deep breath, and turning back, he said "Do you know what the first words I remember are?"

Perenelle looked at him with curiosity.

" _Avada Kedavra._ " Ares muttered to himself, his magic answering his wish as the intent to kill pervaded all around him. It coiled around the space surrounding him, freezing his tutor for a second.

Breaking out of her frozen state, Perenelle stepped back instantly, sensing the energy and _intent_ surrounding him. "Ares…."

"Don't worry, Madame Flamel." Ares replied sadly. "I have no intention of hurting you."

"You are _radiating the intent of murder_ , Ares." Perenelle all but yelled. "So, forgive me if I do not believe your words at this moment." Her tense expression vanished as she stood calmly in front of him. Her current demeanour suggested she was merely standing in her garden, not near a wizard who was radiating the fierce intent to murder everything in the vicinity. "Is this your way of _avoiding_ the favour you owe?"

Ares looked alarmed. "Madame Flamel, please believe me. I have no wish to cause any harm to you… This is just…" He looked resigned, "It's just the way I am."

"What do you mean?" Perenelle asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Ares, you have been my student for nearly eighteen months. I have never seen this before. You have never displayed such an intent in my presence."

"This… _intent…_ It's not mine, Madame Flamel." Ares answered softly.

"What do you mean it isn't yours?" Perenelle snapped at his unbelievable answer. "It is _your_ intent."

"No, it's not." Ares snapped. His teacher looked taken aback at his reaction. It was not surprising, considering he had never lost his temper in her presence. Taking several deep breaths to calm himself, he looked at his teacher and said "It is something that I have hid from everyone, even my Dark Arts tutor… and father. This… intent, or whatever it is, it clings to me, but it is not mine. All I need is to reminisce about the words, and this… this magic floods over."

Perenelle stared at the boy in front of her. His explanation made no sense. She had certainly never heard of such a phenomenon before. Gazing at him intently, she asked "But… how can someone else's intent cling to you?"

Ares stared at her blankly, trying to fathom how the great Perenelle Flamel could be so… dense. "Remember _who_ I am. What I am _famous_ for."

" _Avada Kedavra."_ She replied softly, the words coated with a touch of reverence. "The Dark Lord Voldemort cast the killing curse at you."

Ares's face betrayed nothing.

"This… this intent," Perenelle paused. Her thoughts were a bit scattered. Gathering herself, she asked softly "Ares, why haven't you mentioned it to me earlier?"

"I don't know." Ares confessed. "I thought I might be able to control it when I learnt advanced magic, but mostly because I feared Pad's reaction to it. He has always been guarded about my… affinity for destructive magics and now if he got to know that I could possibly kill…"

"With a touch," Perenelle finished for him. "Can you?"

"I don't know." Ares confessed. "And I don't wish to find out." His voice broke down, as the intent vaporized away. "Madame Flamel, can you help me? _Please?"_

Perenelle stared at him for a moment. This was supposed to be impossible. The killing curse did not manifest as a touch based spell. Then again, who was she to say that certain things were impossible. Giving her student a stern scan, she spoke, her tone grave. "I will need you to _willingly_ give me blood. It is time we figured out what happened that night."

* * *

 **A week later…**

"What did you figure out, Madame Flamel?" asked Ares.

Perenelle looked at him, studiously doing her best to avoid the green-eyed stare that he sent at her.

They currently sat in their usual seats in the library. The past week had been nerve-wracking for Ares. After he had _willingly_ given her a vial of his blood, his tutor did not even mention their conversation again. She completely avoided or deflected his questions until he was ready to tear his hair out. She was, perhaps, his only hope of understanding what was happening to him. A week later, and here they sat, him looking at nothing but her, her avoiding his emerald-eyed gaze.

"Ares…" Perenelle gathered her words, unsure what to say. Ares had never seen his teacher act this nervous. Heck, he had never seen her _be_ nervous. "Do you remember what I mentioned to you about _phylacteries?_ "

Ares nodded warily. His mind began spinning worst-case scenarios, which he painstakingly ignored. "They are soul jars; designed to store the soul of a person. As long as a phylactery is safe, the practitioner is safe from death, and can always resurrect himself back."

Nodding at his answer, and still avoiding his gaze, Perenelle asked "And do you remember the obvious disadvantage of using phylacteries?"

"Phylacteries are extremely vulnerable to outside elements. A magical who got his hands on the phylactery could dominate the soul, turning the practitioner into their slave, and the soul could not resist the control either." Ares replied automatically, a sense of doom creeping upon him. "What has that got to do with me?"

Perenelle sighed in resignation, as she waved her hand, summoning a tome from the library. "Do you recognize this tome?"

Ares could have rolled his eyes had her expression not been that serious. _"Secrets of the Darkest Art?_ " He looked up at her, noticing the blank expression on her face. "You told me to stay away from this particular tome."

"With due reason." Perenelle sniffed. Passing the book to her apprentice, she said "Open Page 366."

Without further comment, Ares opened the respective page as he read the headline. _"An anathema of magic: The horcrux_ ".

Perenelle shut her eyes for a moment. "It is an _improvement_ -" She sneered at the word, "-on the concept of the phylactery, developed by Herpo the Foul back in the early twelfth century. The obvious difference is that it is free from the disadvantages of a phylactery, although it does have quite a few maladies to deal with."

Ares nodded. "What's that got to do with me?"

"I'm coming to that." Perenelle muttered swiftly. "I performed an inspection of your magical core, and came to several conclusions. The present topic relates to one of those conclusions."

"You mean-" Ares began, immediately fearing the worst.

"Let me finish," Perenelle almost yelled, before she controlled her voice. Taking a deep breath, she said "When… _Lord Voldemort_ hit you with the killing curse, something… _inexplicable_ happened. Your blood shows traces of ritual magic in it, which has one single conclusion." She paused, not yet telling him his blood was literally drowning in protection magic. "Your parents _knew_ that they would be attacked."

"But… they were under the Fidelius, and they couldn't have known that Pettigrew-"

"Just _listen_." Perenelle snapped at the boy seated in front of her.

That shut Ares up.

Perenelle took a deep breath. "Your parents, or more likely, your mother – considering your father wasn't known for his intelligence and your mother had a track record for being one of the smartest witches around – She performed a ritual, one employing _sacrificial magic_ , to be precise, and knowingly set herself up as a _willing_ sacrifice to save you. Based on the account of Halloween night you gave me, and the aftermath, I believe your mother enacted a ritual to ensure that the one who killed her would never be able to touch you, or cause you any direct harm."

Ares widened his eyebrows, as the memory rose in his mind, his ears ringing with the one memory he had about his parents.

" _ **Not Harry… Please, not Harry… take me instead…**_

 _ **Kill me… Let my son live… Kill me instead…."**_

Perenelle continued. "From what you have shared with me, you remember _Him_ casting the killing curse at your mother first. That should have fuelled the ritual into action. The protection that her sacrifice provided bonded with your very blood. Had Voldemort even touched you, it would be incredible fatal to him."

Ares just listened to her with undivided attention.

"We know what happened next. He moved ahead and cast the _Avada Kedavra_ , of all spells, at you. A spell that has its roots in soul magic, a spell designed to sever the soul's link to the body. The interference of the sacrificial magic led to a development that no sorcerer in this world could ever divine."

"Which is?" Ares asked fretfully.

"Coincidence." For the first time since the conversation started, Perenelle smiled softly. Actually, Ares thought that he had never seen her smile like that. Ever. "There is no explanation for coincidence. Some people call it a _prophesised event,_ some people call it luck. However, the fact remains that there was no chance that even the Dark Lord Voldemort could account for what the interference might result in."

She paused for a moment. "When the curse touched your skin, it flared the protection barrier, which attacked the curse with a vengeance, calling to your own _Family Magics_ for aid. I will bet you _anything_ that your Family Magics activated at that moment; which also explains why you, despite being so young, are so… _comfortable_ with the totems."

Ares just listened to her blankly. The shocks being delivered to him had temporarily robbed him of his ability to respond.

"Repelled by the combined force of the Family Magics and the protection of your mother's sacrifice, the killing curse _reshaped_ itself with _your magic's intent,_ and attacked Voldemort." Perenelle smirked for a moment, before continuing, "However, for certain reasons that I can only theorize, he didn't die. Instead, it fractured his soul, killing him in a fashion."

Finally, Ares spoke up. "The general idea is that His body had been destroyed. I'm pretty sure that the _killing curse_ doesn't work like a high-powered _Bombarda_." He challenged.

Perenelle smirked, proud that the boy was still analysing her explanation and not accepting it at face value, despite the emotional turmoil he was going through. "Yes, but we are forgetting the protection and the Family Magics. It is a possibility that the protection might have regarded Voldemort as a danger to your life, and viciously attacked him, alongside the Family magics, destroying his body in the process."

Ares nodded. That made sense. A lot of it.

Perenelle's face quickly turned grim. "The protection tore Voldemort's soul apart. While he might still exist as a wraith, a piece of his broken soul latched onto the only vessel it could that night." She paused. "You."

Ares's eyes bulged out. "I am…. I am a horcrux?"

"I believe so." Perenelle nodded.

"I have a…" Ares glanced down at the open tome in front of him, before looking up in desperation. "I am carrying a part of Voldemort's soul?" The revelation overwhelmed his senses, before an even crueller truth hit him. "That means… that means…. I will have to _die,_ to kill him?" The conclusion shocked him to the core, as his knees gave away, making him fall onto the ground, his eyes glassy and hazed in shock.

"Control yourself, Ares." Perenelle snapped. She had trained him to be better. "Don't you _dare_ behave like an imbecile in front of me. You have spent the last three years devoting yourself to the study arcane magics. Stop behaving like an ignorant schoolboy."

"But-" Ares looked up at her. "B-"

"What have I told you about the rituals?" Perenelle asked sharply, far sharper than she had ever spoken to him.

"That it can grant me anything and everything." Ares murmured, before the answer hit him. "You mean," He stood up, not wanting to believe his own mind, "we can correct this… problem using rituals?"

Perenelle nodded. "We can."

Ares let himself breathe again.

"While I am _almost_ sure that a well-placed killing curse might just free you of the foreign soul-shard, it might not just be the _optimum_ manner of dealing with it." Perenelle replied in her usual Professor-like tone.

"Madame Flamel," Ares countered, "this is my _life_ we are talking about. I would just be… _happy_ if we can get that… _thing_ out of me. Bollocks to optimum results."

"And therein speaks the Gryffindor." Perenelle muttered under her breath. She stared at her student for a full minute before speaking. "The optimum path would be to not only get rid of the soul-shard, but also gain an advantage from it."

"How?" Ares challenged.

And then Perenelle gave him the answer.

Ares Black frowned for a moment, as he digested the idea in his mind. It seemed disgusting at first, but, as she had trained him to do, he observed it from a _coldly analytical perspective_. Finally, his lips twisted upward.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey guys, me and my fellow author, Arcturus, are still hungover from our non-existent New year celebrations with Ice-cream and water. So, this AN will be written by our cast. Enjo-**

 ***Author stunned, bound and sleep hexed***

 **Lucius: Muggles should learn to not waste too much breath or time. They never learn.**

 **Ron: Oh! Like you do, Lucy. Your** _ **Master**_ **tortures you and you go back begging for another round of crucio like it's a cheering charm. Ever thought about a checkup at 's?**

 **Lucius: Your father shall pay for this boy!**

 **Ron: Oh! Give me a break. Is that the Family Magic of the Malfoys? Or did you have one too many fathers?**

 **Lucius: *Draws his wand* Avada K- *Stunned***

 **Ron: *Notices caster* Oh! Thanks, He-**

 **Hermione: Avada Kedavra *Ron dies* That's for marrying me at the end of Book 7, asshole!**

 **Lavender: Oh, Won-Won! My precious Won-Won!**

 **Ron's ghost: Somebody save me from her**

 ***Cast ignores the rest of the romantic shenanigans***

 **Padma: So, why did you not kill Lucius, Hermione?**

 **Hermione: Oh! It was our wedding night and he chose to write an AN instead. I'll be sure to crucio him later. He** _ **loves**_ **when I'm being a dominatrix.**

 **Minerva: Miss Gran-err, Miss Malfoy, such words are not uttered in polite company.**

 **Susan: He deserves it. What kind of moron leaves his wife alone on their wedding night?**

 **Hermione: Who you calling a moron, bitch? Crucio!**

 **Neville: Nobody attacks my girlfriend. Expelliarmus!**

 ***Due to an ensuing cat-fight, with the involvement of a toad, cat and an old goat, this AN is now terminated.**

 **Happy New Year***


	12. Overreactions

The July session of the Wizengamot in the year 1956 was a very important day for every Lord and Lady of the British Wizarding society. It was during this session that the infamous _Azeth_ system of spell classification was passed by the Wizengamot, with the declaration that the use of any spell outside the Light and Grey scale of the system as illegal. Any witch or wizard attempting to cast the spell would be thrown in Azkaban, the length and severity of the sentence depending on the spell used, the situation it was used in and the casualties involved. Introduced by Albus Dumbledore, the bill had been severely opposed by several members of the pureblood fraternity, the movement led by Arcturus Orion Black, the then Lord of the House of Black. However, the marks of Grindelwald's devastating attacks on Wizarding Britain were still fresh in the minds of the people. That, coupled with the word of Dumbledore and his followers, ensured that bill was passed, leading to the establishment of one of the darkest days for the Pureblood fraternity; the day when families lost their right to practice Family Magics in public, since the law effectively declared using them to be illegal. The Houses that stood with Arcturus Black later formed the infamous Dark Alliance, the name being a symbol of struggle against Albus Dumbledore and his propaganda against _Dark magic._

When Orion Arcturus Black, the acting Lord of Black, publicly disinherited Sirius Black from the House of Black in 1977, the mantle of the Heir passed to their second son, Regulus Arcturus Black. After the deaths of Orion Black, his wife Walburga Black died in 1978 and the public pronouncement of their son, Regulus, as a Death Eater in 1979, it was acknowledged that the next Lord of the House of Black would be the first born son of Narcissa Melania Malfoy nee Black, wife of Lucius Abraxas of the Noble House of Malfoy. During the Death Eater trials of 1981 – 85, Lucius Malfoy had, using a large part of his fortune, effectively bought himself an out-of-jail ticket using the infamous _Imperius_ defence, confident in the belief that the vast fortunes of the Black vaults would be under his control on the day his son, Draco Lucius, attained his majority and became the Lord of the _Noble and Most Ancient House of Black_. That belief had given Lucius the power to challenge the Ancient Houses, namely the Houses of Nott and Rosier, and gain the allegiance of the other houses in the Dark Alliance. For the next decade, the Alliance had gone ahead to not only replenish the Malfoy fortune many times over, but had also gave him unfettered political power to shape the wizarding world, the likes of which could only be rivalled by Albus Dumbledore.

Now, the Malfoy name had been all but decimated by the actions of a fifteen-year-old boy who had proven himself to be the legitimate heir to the Black name, obliterating any possible authority that Lucius held on the Dark Alliance.

"Lucius?"

The mention of his name brought him out of his reveries. Standing on the balcony, Lucius turned around to see his wife standing close to him.

They stood in the Lord's study of the Malfoy Manor. Unlike the rest of the manor with its ostentatious decorations, the room was of a pale green color with black wooden furniture, crystal light sconces, two landscape paintings and a balcony overlooking the garden and the door sat opposite to it. The desk sat on the right wall and two shelves of tomes stood on the wall beside the balcony. Narcissa stood in the middle of the room, staring at her husband with guilt and hate. Gazing at her with barely disguised contempt, Lucius suppressed his sneer and turned back to the view offered by the balcony.

While not a connoisseur of natural beauty by any means, he preferred the balcony of his study During his childhood, when his father had begun teaching him the arts of subtlety and cunning, he had discovered that the view made it easier to focus his thoughts, especially during his occlumency lessons.

"Yes?" He asked absent-mindedly.

"The Alliance has arrived." replied Narcissa, her tone bitter. "They are waiting in the meeting room next to the hall."

 _Vultures._ Lucius thought with a frown. He knew this would happen but he would not quell the resentment rising in him. "How many?"

"Eleven, including the vassals." Narcissa answered swiftly. She hoped the Malfoy name survived the meeting.

Lucius's frown deepened. _Eleven. That makes three missing. Undecided maybe?_

"Very well." He answered in a calm voice, as he stared into her eyes. If he showed any weakness now, he would never rise again. "It is about time I face them."

* * *

The conference room of Malfoy Manor, much like the Lord's study, was of simplistic design when compared to the rest of the manor. Dark green walls were complemented by cream accents; the furniture was polished cherry wood; the chairs upholstered with wood and soft furs and were forest green in colour.

Lucius walked past the filled chairs around the long table and took his seat at the head of the table: It was the right of the host. The members continued to talk to each other, ignoring his presence. _Bastards!_ Resisting the urge to shout, he affected a calm look and cleared his throat as everyone seated around the sprawling glass table fell silent and turned towards him.

The familiar faces of fellow Alliance members looked at him with a variety of expressions on their faces. Nott and Rosier, Lords of Noble and Ancient Houses, held mild amusement and contempt in their eyes. Selwyn was absent, which was quite a cause for worry. Avery, Jugson, Mulciber, Yaxley and Rowle, Lords of Noble Houses just like him, had expressions running the entire gamut from anger to mockery. The Lestranges were a part of the Alliance too, though they were still locked up in Azkaban. Macnair, Travers, Crabbe and Goyle held ministry seats, the latter two being vassals of the Malfoy family themselves. Another four members were in Azkaban alongside the Lestranges.

"Thank you for attending this gathering on short notice." Lucius said. He decided to dispense with the usual verbal parley that was the usual routine when dealing with a group of mostly Slytherin graduates. "Let us not waste time and discuss the future of the Dark Alliance in light of the Dark Lord's return."

Edward Nott smirked. The sixty-year-old was part of the Wizengamot since the time of Lucius's father, Abraxas Malfoy, and led the House of Nott for nearly four decades. He knew how desperate Lucius was, despite the authority and arrogance he projected. The reference to the Dark lord was a good way of motivating the fellow Alliance members towards preserving the Alliance. Edward was pretty confident that if the Dark Lord had not returned, the Alliance would have fragmented faster than Lucius could say ' _wait_ '. His son, Theodore, had not played any word games when describing the state of things at Hogwarts and, after all this time, he informed him of the stance he had taken. Edward had felt pride when his son had shown the Nott tenacity in his beliefs. At this moment, Edward could care less if the entire Alliance was dissolved. At the very least, things would certainly be interesting from this day forth.

"I shall start with orders the Dark Lord pass to me before we move ahead with Alliance business." Lucius began shrewdly. It was the path of least resistance at the moment. It was well-known that Lucius was the left hand of the Dark Lord during the First Wizarding War. That and the fact that Lucius's son would have taken the mantle of Lord Black in the future was the basis for the control he held over the Black Alliance.

"We could, _Lucius_ …" Nott replied, tone rather shrewd. "However, the memo stated that the future of the Alliance was the top order of today's business. Unless of course, the memo changed when I wasn't looking." There was not a hint of question in his voice.

Lucius grit his teeth. Trust Nott to capitalise on the mistakes of others. _The bastard!_

"What could possibly be _more important_ than anything to do with the Dark Lord?" Jugson commented, much to Lucius's elation.

"Indulge me." Nott smirked at his fellow Alliance member. Facing them all, he said "Keeping our… _associations_ aside, we need to take some time to reconsider some of our decisions, particularly the recent developments at the Wizengamot. Besides, the Dark Lord is currently on the continent for Merlin-knows how long! Am I wrong, Lucius?" His smirk widened at their soon-to-be ex-leader.

Lucius nearly blanched at the words. It seemed that Nott was bent on milking the opportunity to the fullest. "Of course, Edward, but we shouldn't really put things like _the Dark Lord's orders_ aside. It can create… _unexpected_ results."

Edward ignored the veiled threat from the other man. "True. But as I said, indulge me for a moment. The Dark Lord is away to reform his great army from the continent, and we know that he has passed on orders to not disturb him except for the direst of situations. Since Lucius has never held the power over the House of Black, it is imperative that we all understand and appreciate the sudden change that is now thrust upon us."

"What is there to decide?" Avery sneered. "Black was Dumbledore's puppet during the war. We all know that."

"Yes, and we all know that Black was disinherited and Lucius's son was the next heir." Rosier barked, scorn dripping from his words. "I'm sure we all remember how _wonderfully_ that turned out."

Nott turned to smile at Rosier. Benjamin Rosier was a fellow Lord, and understood very well that appearances were not everything. Besides, the trial of Ares Black gave information they never had; information that told them that their previous views had to be discarded and new plans made.

"I agree," Edward seconded his fellow Lord. "Ares Black, or should I call him _Harry Potter_ , as I well remember, _openly_ rejected Albus Dumbledore at the Wizengamot when the old man went ahead for his defense."

"It could be" Jugson commented. "that the entire thing was a complete charade."

"It would be a real shame to see the House of Black fall into the snare of the old fool Dumbledore." Mulciber added in his two cents.

Nott raised an eyebrow. "Are you idiots, Jugson, Mulciber?" Ignoring their affronted reactions, he said " _Ares Black,_ formerly known as Harry Potter, was taken away by Sirius Black in 1981, and has stayed with him for all we know. The same Sirius Black whom _Dumbledore_ tried to bring to court with flimsy proofs of Death Eater associations, although it was not enough. The same Sirius Black who has stayed out of Magical Britain for all these years, and has returned only because of the law that prevents Ares Black from taking up his seats at the Wizengamot _without_ passing his OWL's and NEWT's from Hogwarts."

"I understand your point Edward but-" Lucius tried to halt Nott in his tracks.

"Do you?" Edward questioned, interrupting Lucius midway. He could not let Lucius dictate the terms of this meeting. "My son, Theodore, has established a good rapport with Ares Black during the first week of term, and he has informed me that Ares Black is, at best, neutral against both Dumbledore and the Dark Lord."

"He is?" Rosier asked, surprise shining in his eyes.

Nott nodded.

"This is far from what I expected." Benjamin answered thoughtfully. "The Boy-Who-Lived, A _Neutral_. Especially one who holds the mantle of the Black and Potter families."

"We cannot be sure of-" Lucius tried again. He was losing complete control of the meeting and, quite possibly, the Allaince. Nott and Rosier would not even give him room to breathe before they wrested over control from his hands.

" _Lucius._ " Edward admonished. "You refuse to admit that you have been bested by a teenager. Irrespective of the chain of events that might have led you into jump into the flames, it does not change the fact that you were played for a fool." He paused for a moment before continuing. "I remember Orion bemoaning how his son was a prankster, a Gryffindor in all but name. Yet, the same son was able to _prank_ the Wizengamot in manner that would have made _Slytherin_ proud. From what I know, Ares Black displayed complete confidence in his ability to handle the situation, even when you pulled off that crazy stunt of sending Aurors to Hogwarts."

Lucius glared at him, his face flushed. It had been incredibly… _Gryffindorish_ of him to go ahead with the plan without making sure that there was not a shred of truth in the boy's claims. A decade of holding the seat of power had made him lousy and over-confident. He had fallen due to _his hubris_.

"Let us not kid ourselves, gentlemen." Edward stood up as he addressed the audience. "Most of us have joined the Dark Lord because of three main factors. One, he is the Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Slytherin. Two, He promised to pave a path to a perfect world free from the muggles." Nott stared hard at Lucius, "And three, He was the perfect banner to stand against Albus Dumbledore's campaign against everything we held dear."

"You are heading down the path of a blood traitor, Nott." Yaxley said, a quiet rage seeping into his voice.

"Mind your place, Yaxley. Remember that you are talking to the Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Nott." Edward gave him a hard stare, making the other man steal his eyes away.

Rosier cleared his throat. "I believe that, our association with the Dark Lord aside, we should not be hasty in judging the agenda of the House of Black."

"And the House of Potter too." Rowle grunted. On Goyle's sharp look, he defended. "What? Charlus Potter held significant sway at the Wizengamot before the Dark Lord killed him." He glanced at Malfoy for a moment. "We shouldn't forget that this is _Sirius Black and Harry Potter_ we are talking about. I bet my family fortune that Black would do anything he can to hurt the Dark Lord."

"Point." Rosier agreed.

"They have. I will give you that one," Nott agreed, "but it does not mean that _they will._ Old Arcturus chose Sirius over Orion for a reason after all."

"Just what… are you suggesting, Edward?" Lucius asked finally. If this was going to happen with or without his input, he may as well get it over with.

Nott considered his words. "I have it… _on good authority_ , that Sirius Black will be present at the Wizengamot session this month. Whatever his agenda may be, we shall see for ourselves."

"How about assassinating the boy and Black?" Macnair asked, making his own presence for the first time since the beginning of the meet. Everyone, even Lucius himself, glanced at the executioner in surprise. "What?" He defended at their collective stare. "It would solve the problem in a single… _stroke_. The Dark Lord would be pleased too."

Lucius had always believed Macnair was an amoral sociopath. He didn't even believe the man cared anything about the agenda just so long as he got to kill and torture be it creatures or people. The words certainly did not help matters.

"Well, the idea has merit." Travers spoke coolly. "The boy did not banish Draco out of the family. If both Black and the boy suffer such a… _tragedy_ , it would certainly simplify matters for everyone."

"Are you insane?" Nott barked. "An _assassination attempt_ in the Ministry? And by lousy bastards like yourselves?"

Lucius withheld his comment, allowing the discussion to move on. Either way, it was _indeed_ a fact that Ares Black _had not_ disinherited Draco off from the Black line, and until the moment when _Sirius Black_ informed him of the _favours_ \- he thought with a grim smile - he was _technically free_ to make any moves, as long as they could not be linked to him. Besides, he could always have Fudge redirect the press statement in Lucius's favour, stating that it was some terrorists wishing harm to the Boy-Who-Lived or something along those lines. Hmm… he would have to talk to Macnair about it.

"We could always hire assassins from the continent. The session is two weeks away." Avery offered his opinion.

"What do you think, Edward?" Rosier asked genially. "They have a point. It would stop any changes in our plans, and keep Lucius from losing everything to Black."

Nott felt conflicted. It was true that he had been a death eater in the last war, but he had always been a financial backer on the Dark Lord's side. Unlike the others, he was a man of refined tastes and thought himself above such activities like muggle-hunting and killing of muggleborns. Back in the 1970's, the Dark Lord had been the sole banner to stand behind, since the only other force was Dumbledore and no self-respecting pureblood would join that barmy old codger. With the recent changes in the political atmosphere, and from his discussions with young Theodore, he had hoped that the new change would give them another faction, one other than Dumbledore or the Dark Lord. But now….

He had joined the Dark Lord because the man promised a world of their dreams. However, Edward was neither foolish nor blind. Despite his claims as the _Heir of Slytherin,_ the Dark Lord had never once tried to take his Wizengamot seat. Edward could bet his right hand that had the Dark Lord taken over the Slytherin seat at the Wizengamot, it would mean absolute defeat for Dumbledore, without any bloodshed. Instead, the Dark Lord had gone ahead with a hare-brained plan of assassinating people holding key places in the Wizengamot, followed by terrorist tactics, creating a long period of war that destroyed over half the pureblood families that existed during that period.

History was going to repeat itself, Edward knew, and these morons were doing their very best to hasten the destruction of the world they claimed to care about.

 _It seems I need to hasten my plans._

"Edward, what do you think?" Benjamin asked him again.

"I admit" Nott answered, his bright blue eyes staring at Lucius calculatingly. "that the plan is indeed plausible. However, have you even considered the cons side of this… grand plan?"

"What do you mean?" Jugson exclaimed.

"I mean," Nott turned his eyes towards the other man. "What happens when the plan fails? For all we know, our _esteemed_ Lord Malfoy here" He paused, pointing towards Lucius who bristled at being singled out. "has made a mockery of himself and is _condemned_ to grant _three favours_ to Lord Black, who has, for some _unknown reason_ , not yet called in said favours. Hypothetically, if the attempt should fail, who do you think the Lord Black will think is the culprit?"

Edward now faced Lucius as he stood up. "I am older and, perhaps wiser. Tell me Lucius, what stops Sirius Black simply asking you to handover the Malfoy fortune over?"

Lucius blanched at the thought.

"And even then…" Edward smiled a smile of malice. "That's just one favour. Besides, he can simply decide to get your son and your wife as outcasts of the family, or even worse, ask you for _something_ that would make _Death_ more lucrative than living?" His eyes glinted as he stared into Lucius's hazel irises. "He might not have declared you as a blood-traitor, Lucius, but do not forget the fact that right now, _you are all but Sirius Black's bitch."_

Lucius fidgeted at the thought. It was true that Narcissa was the sole reason that stopped Ares Black, and by extension, Sirius Black from demolishing the Malfoy name to ashes that day. The assassination attempt might just destroy his House completely.

"That only happens when the assassination fails." Macnair commented slowly, ignoring everyone else. "We hire the best of the best. And we know that Black will be focussed on protecting the boy more than himself. If we kill Black, we can threaten the boy to keep his wits to himself and hand over the Lordship if he wants to live."

"And where exactly would you find such assassins?" Rosier challenged.

Macnair's face twisted into a menacing grin. "Tell me Rosier, have you heard of the organization named _Black Death?"_

* * *

 **Office of the Deputy Headmistress, Hogwarts.**

Despite being one of the most accomplished Transfiguration Mistresses in the magical world, teaching at Hogwarts for over forty years was never what Minerva Mcgonagall had in mind when she had first applied for the post of assistant professor at Hogwarts. Her husband, Elphinstone Urquart had been a war-wizard for the ICW, participating in the war against the abomination that was Gellert Grindelwald. Her son Jason had just graduated from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and was planning to take a job at the Romanian Dragon reserve. With both of her boys away, the forty-two-year-old had decided to temporarily halt her attempts at creating a new thesis on the trending animagus research during those days, and decided to live the life of a professor for some years at her alma mater, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It would keep her busy until her husband had returned and keep her mind off her worries over his life. The ambitious part of her mind also convinced her that studying under the tutelage of _Transfiguration Master_ Albus Dumbledore, who was then Professor of Transfiguration and her own teacher, was an extremely lucrative offer. She had decided to listen to her desires and applied for a post in early 1943.

At first sight, everything seemed perfect. While teaching was quite the arduous activity and some of the children would give her grey hairs before the year was out, it was quite enjoyable and kept her from worrying too much, especially about her husband who was still fighting in Europe. The days of lonesome self-funded research were long gone. Her days were now spent teaching her students, grading assignments and exams and the usual patrols undertaken by the teachers. She soon learnt she had a passion for teaching and that, combined Dumbledore teaching her the history and versatility of Transfiguration magic on weekends made her feel that her life was going to be perfect.

She now recognised it for the beautiful lie it was.

Ten months after she joined Hogwarts, she received a Floo call. Elphinstone had met his demise during the rout of Grindelwald's forces at Dusseldorf. Jason, who had always been harshly critical of his father's job, was now incensed beyond reason. The death of his father had only served to compound his anger. The fact that his very own mother was working under _Dumbledore_ , the same _Albus Dumbledore_ who, according to the rumours, had helped Grindelwald become what he was, was too much for him. He became reclusive, staying away from Great Britain; away from his mother, who was left all alone at Hogwarts with a professorship.

And then, came the year of 1945. Albus Dumbledore took an extended leave of absence, which was rather surprising since the man did not even take the occasional day off in the thirty-five years of his service as a teacher at Hogwarts. It had come as a shock to all who knew the man as a near reclusive, the man who had very nearly shunned any form of human contact beyond his colleagues and the students who passed through the school. Then again, the rumours about him and Grindelwald pervading all through Magical Europe and the constant pleas and threats from him to join the war against the monster he had allegedly created were too much for anyone, especially for Dumbledore of all people who was at the centre of the rumours. People were dying and Grindelwald seemed unstoppable.

A few months later, the international and local newspapers of Europe and Britain exuberantly declared how Albus Dumbledore, member of the 44th regiment of the ICW, had defeated Gellert Grindelwald in a titanic duel, ending the War of Flames. Minerva had been elated beyond belief, rejoicing the fall of the man whose actions had torn apart her family.

If that were the only effects in the aftermath of the war.

Shortly after his return to Britain and Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore had been crowned as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW. The entire year that followed saw Albus Dumbledore having to attend variety of conventions and meetings with the some of the most influential people from the magical communities of the world. Nearly two years after Dumbledore's return to Hogwarts, Headmaster Armando Dippet decided to resign, passing on the responsibility of the post to Dumbledore. None were surprised by the announcement. Passing on the position of the Head of House Gryffindor and the Transfiguration professorship to Minerva, Albus Dumbledore _shifted_ from the life of an educator to that of a consummate politician. Three years later, Minerva McGonagall found herself raised to the position of Deputy Headmistress, responsibilities that she had been managing in Dumbledore's absence for over half a decade, especially considering how often the man had been away, busy because of his duties as the Chief Warlock and as the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW.

A decade later, James Potter had entered her life. Her old friend Dorea Potter nee Black had given birth to a baby boy after a long time; and had asked her to be his Godmother. It had been one of Minerva's proudest moments. It _almost_ made up for the seven years of her getting grey hairs from the antics of her godson and his band of rogues during their time at Hogwarts.

Then, there was Lily Evans, the child who made her proud to be the Head of Gryffindor and later the woman who changed her godson for the better and the woman responsible for the Order of the Phoenix's victories in the war against the Death Eaters. Her fierce defense of those she considered friends and a no-nonsense attitude had endeared her to Minerva.

The two of them almost made up for the loss of her own son departing away from her life.

Then came 1981, and the event that destroyed her world again. James was dead. Lily was dead. Sirius Black had taken her grandson away with him. She saw Dumbledore do his _worst_ to get the baby back from his lawful godfather, completely ignoring all of her protests against the action. Then, the trial of Regulus Black where the death eater openly slandered Sirius Black as a death eater. Amelia Bones had completely ignored his testimony, quoting that Regulus's mind was _too broken_ for the accusation to be taken seriously, especially when a _death eater_ was accusing one of the most celebrated aurors of the Ministry.

She had spent the next decade continuing to teach her student. Her loud protests against Dumbledore's actions to retrieve Harry went ignored; even her friends had distanced themselves from her. All these events, combined with her former mentor's utter disregard from the ethics and morals, the same very morals he had taught her, disillusioned her to the decency of the world, especially when an entire country supported his actions.

Now, fourteen years later, the child of her late adopted family, Harry James Potter, had arrived at Hogwarts thanks to the actions of an old man too set in his ways. Only, he was Ares James Black, Heir of Potter and Black…. She paused for a while as she corrected herself mentally. Potter, Black and _Slytherin._ Once again, people had targeted the child in their greed for power and she had been unable to do anything about it. If anything, she had been _forced_ to walk alongside the Auror to Harry Potter's rooms to _get him arrested._

Minerva felt the irrepressible urge to scream out to the heavens at her impotence. She had been unable to do anything for her husband, her son and her godson. She would be _damned to the fires of hell_ if she allowed herself to stay quiet now. Trouble was brewing around the child she considered her grandson and she would not let it pass.

Staring at the banner of Gryffindor House in her private quarters, Minerva McGonagall was reminded of the principles that the symbol represented.

Filled with a newfound sense of purpose, she stood up from her chair, walked up to the Floo and threw Floo powder into the fireplace. As soon as the flames turned green, she called out.

"Longbottom estate."

* * *

 **Meanwhile in Longbottom Manor.**

Augusta Longbottom nee Crouch had been a widow for over twenty years, ever since her husband Gerald Longbottom, a senior Auror in his time, died on the service on the line of duty. The regency of House Longbottom had passed to Gerald's brother Algernon Longbottom, until her son Frank would come of age to take up the Lordship. Fate, however, had other plans for her, as her only son Frank and his wife Alice had been tortured to insanity by the murderous bitch Bellatrix Lestrange and her family. It had been an even greater shock when she realized that the Lestranges had been able to enter through the wards of the manor because her own nephew Bartemious Crouch Junior, a secret death eater, betrayed her family by giving them access to the wards.

Augusta had been devastated beyond belief. Her son and daughter-in-law had been tortured to insanity and had to be shifted to St. Mungo's Permanent Spell Damage ward, leaving the one-year old Neville as the sole heir to the Longbottom legacy. She had continued to wallow in her grief for a couple of years, ignoring her most important responsibility until young Neville had neared his fifth birthday.

* * *

 _ **March 19, 1985.**_

 _Augusta Longbottom had just returned home from a visit to St. Mungo's. Seeing her son and her daughter-in-law in the condition they were in never really helped matters but it did soothe her heart to know that they were alive and in treatment, however futile said treatment was. She had just crossed the greenhouses and reached the main entrance of Longbottom Hall when-_

 _SPLASH!_

 _"It's all right, Neville. Don't panic. Just relax and let the magic happen." Algernon was shouting, trying to sound as positive as possible, although it was possibly the worst kind of advice one could give to a drowning boy. Especially considering the fact that Neville had yet to demonstrate any signs of accidental magic so far. The boy struggled to keep himself afloat, only to drown again and again, trying to raise his head up several times in the process._

" _Do it Neville. Make your grand-uncle proud." Algernon was shouting._

" _NO!" Augusta shrieked in fright, as she raced towards Algernon. Pushing him out of her path, she whipped her wand up to pull the drowning boy up._

 _It wasn't necessary._

 _The entire pool turned into a whirling water sprout, and from the centre of it, the semiconscious body of Neville Longbottom shot out, flew in an arc towards the ground, before Augusta slowed the boy down and caught him before he hit the ground. Drenched and completely exhausted, the little boy lost consciousness._

* * *

" _What exactly do you think you were doing?" Augusta raged at the other man who just held his composure despite her anger and spite. "He could have died."_

" _But he didn't." Algernon replied calmly. "He demonstrated magic, which is more than anything that he has ever managed to do for all this time."_

" _I care about him being alive more than him having magic." Augusta snarled, her wand hissing dangerously as it glowed an ominous purple._

" _Oh really?" Algernon sneered. "Is that why you keep mentioning how your grandson is so unlike your dear Frank? At least I am honest."_

What? _Augusta thought. "I didn't-"_

" _Oh, shut it, Augusta!" Algernon barked. "Your grandson is a near-squib, whether you accept it or not. It took him nearly drowning for his magic to react. Besides, your complaints about the boy's inaptitude for magic and weak personality is beginning to grate on my nerves. It would be better for us all if you relinquished the Lordship to me already."_

 _Augusta took a step backward in shock. It was true that in her sadness, she had treated Neville harshly, comparing him to her Frank every chance she had. She had ignored the boy's love for plants and forced him to demonstrate accidental magic. With that came another realization, how she had planned Neville to yield Frank's wand when the time came up._

" _I- I admit," she replied finally, her tone broken with regret._ How could I have been so blind?... _"I tried to see Neville as a clone of his father, but I was- I was wrong." She eyes glinted with determination. "However, that was my mistake and I will correct it. I don't care if my grandson is a squib or a wizard, but he is Frank's son, and that is worth more to me than the world." Glaring at Algernon, she said "If you ever,_ ever _try to take his heritage away from him, so help me I_ will _curse your worthless arse to the other side of Europe."_

 _Algernon stared at her with a blank look before it softened into a smile. "Well, that is good to know. Now I can safely return back to my farm."_

 _Augusta blinked at the sudden change in demeanour. "Wait- what do you?"_

 _Algernon laughed. "I am suffering from dragon pox, Augusta." He chuckled at her look of disbelief. "Last stage. I might just last two years, if that."_

 _For the first time in years, Augusta Longbottom spluttered. "Then- what about the Lordship – you - I mean-"_

 _Algernon coughed with a hacking sound, before he gave out a blood-stained grin. "As I said, I might survive two years. My arrival here was only to check if young Neville was growing up all right in the absence of his parents." He gave a fond look at the unconscious boy lying down on the grass. "I can't say you performed very well."_

" _I supposed I got a Dreadful." Augusta answered bitterly._

 _Algernon laughed. "Well, if it helps you any better, you can increase your score by treating Neville the way he deserves. Not the way he has been treated thus far. Little Neville has a green thumb, and although it might seem like he is only good for Herbology, you forget that he holds the blood of Vikings in them. There is a special meaning of having a green thumb in the Viking legacy. Unless of course, you do not know your magical history…"_

" _You mean…" Augusta felt her knees weaken. "you can't mean… druidic…" There was a touch of reverence at the end._

 _Algernon smiled._

* * *

Ten years had passed since that incident, and now her young Neville had grown up into a strong wizard, one with great potential. Though the boy did not have an affinity for transfiguration, he seemed to demonstrate an aptitude for charms, apart from the prodigious green thumb he was blessed with. Pomona raved about his abilities and had already approached him with an offer of apprenticeship, which her grandson had accepted. Augusta had been only too glad to give her permission.

Seated on the couch in the parlour of Longbottom Hall, Augusta looked up from the accounts she was reading when the Floo flared with bright green light as she recognized a Floo Call trying to access through the wars. She quickly approached the green flames, throwing in a pinch of powder, allowing the call to connect. To her surprise, it was Minerva McGonagall, her long-time friend and Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts.

Minerva, herself and Dorea Black had been a tight-knit group of friends when she had studied at Hogwarts. After graduating from the school, she had gone ahead to get her mastery in battle-magic from the Munich Academy of Sorcery, while Minerva had chosen to try for a mastery in cross-species transfiguration. Dorea Black had gone ahead for a mastery in Charms, before she married Charlus Potter, the then Lord of House Potter. Later in her life, Augusta had taken up a seat on the Hogwarts Board of Governors and the close friendship between her and Minerva had reduced to friendly acquaintance.

"Miner- Professor McGonagall." Augusta muttered.

"Just Minerva is fine, Gus. How are you?"

Her eyebrows raised, the Longbottom matriarch answered, "Not bad. Any reason for the surprise call?"

Minerva seemed conflicted for a moment. "There is. May I come over?"

"Sure."

* * *

 **Sometime later…**

"So let me get this straight." Augusta stared at her friend in surprise and not a little bit of wonder. "You, Minerva McGonagall, wish to reactivate the Wizengamot seats from your inheritance and use them to help Harry - I mean, Ares Black?"

Minerva nodded.

"While I appreciate your initiative to help the boy, I do not think that the Noble and Ancient House of McGonagall is going to make any difference to him or to the Wizengamot in general. I mean, I know that brings in three votes, but you must understand that-"

Minerva smiled at her friend, causing Augusta to stop and stare at her in confusion. "I cannot believe you, of all people, forgot my heritage, Augusta. Don't you remember anything about my mother?"

"Emily McGonagall, yes. Why won't I?" Augusta frowned in thought, focusing on what she knew of the late Lady of House McGonagall. "As far as I remember, she was descended from the-" Augusta's eyes widened when the answer struck. "The Ancient and Noble family of Ross."

Minerva smiled primly. "Which brings in another three votes. Then, there is my husband's family."

"Elphinstone Urquart, I remember." Augusta remembered with a frown. "But Urquart isn't a Noble House from what I remember."

Minerva smiled. "You are losing your edge, Gus. I am the only remaining member of the Urquart family, and can submit the Urquart name as a vassal under the Ancient Family of McGonagall-"

"Which grants Urquart one vote under the Wizengamot charter for the House of McGonagall." Augusta replied appreciatively. Gazing shrewdly at her friend, she said "You have given this a fair amount of thought, haven't you?"

The stern Transfiguration professor simply nodded at the words. "I know that Sirius Black is innocent, and that Harry- _Ares_ thinks highly of the man. The Black and Potter family brings in five and three votes of their own, which isn't enough, but with another seven-"

Augusta smirked at her old friend. "You are thinking of an alliance, are you?"

"I am." Minerva confessed. "However, I need another Ancient House or higher to back my proposition at the Wizengamot, and I couldn't think of anyone else. I was hoping if you could…"

Augusta chuckled. "Of course, Minerva, I will." She went ahead and held the other woman's shoulder softly. "However, tell me something. Why are you trying so hard?"

Minerva sighed. "I have watched Albus try to abduct James and Lily's boy again and again. I have watched Lucius Malfoy drag him away from Hogwarts in chains. Granted, he was escaped all the attempts on his life and he played the politicians for fools. But… He is just a boy, Augusta. What happens when he is caught off guard and needs allies? I need to be provide what help I can, however little it may be."

Augusta looked thoughtful. Her daughter-in-law Alice was best friends with Lily Evans and was the godmother to Harry. Above all, Harry was Dorea's grandson. Besides, her son had mentioned a prophecy and how her Neville and Harry could be the chosen one of said. A part of her had been very happy when she had heard that the Dark Lord had chosen to go after Dorea's grandson instead of her own. She had failed a lot of people in her life, but this was a chance to make up for it.

"You won't be the only one." She replied at last.

"What do you mean?" Minerva asked in surprise.

Augusta smirked. "You forget that the Dark Lord could have as easily attacked my son instead of the Potters."

Minerva's eyes widened. "The prophecy."

Augusta nodded. "The bastard chose Dorea's grandchild when it could just have been my own. And now, _He_ is back. If Dorea's grandson is the one that can defeat him, my place is behind the young man, supporting him. Dorea would have done the same for us." Her last sentence was wistful.

Minerva nodded, a tear trickling down her left eye. "She would." She could not forget the fierce woman who had once taken on three of You-Know-Who's assassins and wiped the floor with them. She and Lily had quite a lot in common, creating a bond between the two.

Augusta stood up straighter, staring at Minerva in the eye. "The Noble Most Ancient House of Longbottom will stand with you. So too will the Noble House of Crouch."

Minerva's eyes widened. "Of course, _Barty Crouch_."

Augusta nodded with an angry expression on her face. "My brother's line was responsible for the fate of my son and daughter-in-law. It is only right the same line should now help defeat Voldemort for good. The Houses of Longbottom and Crouch will stand with you."

"That brings in another six votes, enough to make a difference." Minerva answered, astonished.

Augusta smirked. "You forget the other players, Minerva. My grandson reports that the Potter heir is very close with the Greengrass heiress, which brings in another Ancient House into the tally. That, including the vassals of the Greengrass family, we can get a bloc of our own, strong enough to support Dorea's grandson."

Minerva smiled. "That is not all."

"What do you mean?" Augusta asked genially.

"Harry is the Heir to a third House, A Noble and _Most_ Ancient House, which brings in another-"

"Hold on, _another_ Most Ancient? Besides Black?"

Minerva nodded.

"Which one?" Augusta challenged.

"I really… couldn't say." Minerva answered evasively.

Augusta observed her friend's reaction before she nodded. She knew every seat on the Wizengamot. Which seat would the Potter Heir have claim to. As far as she knew, the Potters were at least a few generations off from the parent line of any House besides the Blacks… "Alright." She let out a sigh. "Thirty-one votes. It is enough to make a significant difference at the Wizengamot." She clapped her hands giddily. "It will be quite fun playing. We have a good power bloc, and that's too ignoring the fact that I could convince Amelia to join our Alliance. The Bones and the Abbotts have their own vassals and are a minor stronghold of their own."

Minerva chuckled at her friend's antics. The Longbottom matriarch was a rather intimidating figure in politics, especially considering she was feared by several houses and rarely voiced her opinion, except on the most important of matters. Since the Black seat stayed dormant for the past sixteen years, the Longbottoms were the only _Most Ancient_ line active in the Wizengamot, a fact which brought the house quite a bit of power. After all, there was a reason why no one, with the exception of Draco, dared to publicly act or speak against Neville.

"Three _Most Ancient_ Houses… it will be a freaking circus." Augusta thought giddily, before a thought struck her. "Wait a minute, are you _completely_ sure that Dorea's grandson will want your support in the first hand? It would be shame your House if Potter and Black demonstrate even the least bit of hesitation."

For the first time in years, Minerva McGonagall smirked.

* * *

 **Office of the Minister of Magic.**

 _In politics, nothing ever happens by accident. If something does occur, you can bet your life there was a plan behind it._ Wise words from his late father, Hiram Fudge, that Cornelius truly believed in. And considering the fact that there were very few scruples that the man followed; this was one belief he rigidly adhered to.

Cornelius had been average worker through his life. His elder brother had gone abroad to pursue a career in International law enforcement while he had to settle for a job at the Department of Magical Affairs at the Ministry, a dead end job pushing papers through the meagre department. Then again, his _Acceptables_ in the NEWT's hardly deserved anything better than that. A reference from some family friends, and his own father's reputation as the Head of Department ofInternational Magical Cooperation, gained him a comfortable position of an _Undersecretary to Bartemious Crouch_ in less than three years, the then Head of the DMLE.

It had taken him very little time to understand the way wizarding Britain worked. Cornelius was not a leader or an authority figure, but he had a nice affinity for twisting the media towards his own purposes and understanding what made people tick. His position as an undersecretary allowed him to understand the flow of politics in the Wizengamot, especially since Crouch trusted him with the important political missives.

His careful study of the politics and the various Houses and members provided him with one undeniable fact: Despite claims to the contrary, Albus Dumbledore held a lot of political capital at the Wizengamot. So Cornelius had dutifully performed lip-service to the man, asking for his opinion every now and then on a variety of affairs at the Ministry. His ability to behave like a good pawn had proved to be a great talent, as was the nose to dig out gold from a prospective situation, something that would have made any self-respecting niffler jealous.

Then came 1982.

Millicent Bagnold had suffered a lot of negative publicity because of her inability to lead Magical Britain in the war against You-know-who. Her term was about to end and if one were listening to speculations, Bartemious Crouch was going to be the next Minister. His hard line stance against the Dark Lord's forces, along with the swift justice he exacted from the terrorists earned him the limelight in the aftermath of the Dark Lord's defeat. The fact that the Most Noble House of Crouch held a lot of respect bolstered his efforts.

And then, everything changed in one single incident.

The trial of Igor Karkaroff on March 20, 1982.

Bartemious Crouch Junior, the only son of the DMLE head himself, was revealed to be a Death eater, sold out by Igor Karkaroff in the hope that he would get freedom from imprisonment. And then the public began speculating once again.

 _What kind of a Minister would Barty Crouch be?_

 _How would he be able to lead the country when he couldn't lead his own son onto the right path?_

Once the prime candidate for the post of the Minister for Magic, Bartemious found himself struggling to save his own name. Both the general population and the politicians, willing to act on an opportunity, began to question his efforts as the Head of the DMLE. The general rumour was that Barty had used his son to make some… _unimpressive wins_ against the Dark Lord's forces to earn the limelight. It was also conjectured that Barty Crouch was actually a Death eater sympathizer himself. Letting Barty assume the post of Minister would only aid the Dark Lord. After all, the Dark Lord had fallen to the _Boy-Who-Lived_ , not Bartemious Crouch.

Cornelius witnessed the man get tossed away into the hellhole of defamation, despite all his contributions to the Wizarding world. The idea of Barty Crouch being a Death-eater sympathizer was reinforced by certain… _documents_ sent anonymously by a certain someone in the Ministry. Someone who had been his _undersecretary_ all this while.

It had taken only a little mix of sympathy and support on Cornelius's end, and old Barty had been convinced. Bartemious publicly cancelled his own nomination, and offered his support to Cornelius Fudge, his own _undersecretary,_ who was known for being a _rather genial idiot_ to the Wizengamot and the Ministry. In return, Fudge promised that he would ensure Barty would head a Ministry department for the rest of his life.

The principle, Cornelius found, was simple. In times of peace, people tended to vote for one who promised the least, because he would be the least disappointing. With Millicent already out of the game and Crouch supporting his nomination and _Albus Dumbledore_ voicing his approval, Cornelius Fudge saw a rapid ascent to one of the most prestigious positions in Wizarding Britain: The Minister of Magic.

Events after his appointment became quite murky. Lucius Malfoy, who had been caught as a Death-eater, claimed that he was _Imperiused_ during his trial. Several other… conditions, ones subtly forced by _Minister Fudge,_ made sure of the fact that Lucius Malfoy walked off the stand with barely a slap on the wrist. Of course, the same idea later helped a couple more death eaters escape sentencing.

Thanks to his… discrete efforts, Cornelius Fudge gained a regular source of income via _donations_ from the Malfoy fortune, the political support of the future Black Heir, and the Dark Alliance in general. Making sure that he kept Albus Dumbledore… _satiated_ from time to time ensured that things ran smoothly at the Ministry. The addition of a rather cynical and blood-purist bitch known as Dolores Umbridge had turned out to be one of his smartest decisions. Dolores had quite the effective ability to sniff dirt off Wizengamot members faster than any dog, a talent that Cornelius used to the maximum. The fact that she could profit from a situation while keeping her hands clean reminded him too much of, well, himself really.

And then after so many years, everything changed. Starting with the damned trial of the _Harry frickin' Potter_.

The boy… the _damned_ boy had taken them by surprise. When Lucius had informed him about the situation and his plan to _take care_ of the boy, he had undertaken the arrest personally, with the belief that it would be a good way to subjugate the House of Potter before his - ahem, Lucius's power.

Instead, it was the boy who had been playing them. Harry Potter – ahem, Ares Black had taken their little plan, turned it onto itself and made them look like _daft idiots_ in front of the Wizengamot. Plus, the establishment of Ares Black as the next Black Heir annihilated any and all of his dreams of being in the good books of the Black family, and now there was very little he could do to save his own arse.

"Hem-hem."

The sound of his _undersecretary_ clearing her throat drove him out of his reveries. While he was irritated at the interruption, it would, perhaps, be good to discuss his worries with someone who understood him. Dolores was the best person to discuss the affairs in the present circumstances, since it seemed that his dear friend Lucius was headed for a long fall ahead.

"Yes, Dolores?"

"Minister, I was hoping to ask you, about the Black situation." Dolores replied. She had been itching to speak to Cornelius about it, and she would not lose this chance.

Cornelius frowned. He knew his secretary too well to not know when she was pursing her agenda; an agenda which he believed he had an idea of. "What about it?"

Dolores smiled like a child high on candy.

To be honest, Cornelius found it to be quite terrifying.

Still smiling, Dolores said "I mean, with the Dark Alliance set to fracture real soon, what is going to be our… _behaviour_ towards the new Lord Black?"

Cornelius scowled. Sirius Black was a complete unknown. For a second, he cursed Albus Dumbledore for passing the law that all but forced _Harry Potter and Sirius Black_ to return to Britain. Had they been away, Lucius's son would go on to become the Black Lord, and Cornelius would remain comfortable. Now, however….

Staring at his undersecretary with shrewd eyes, he asked, in a tentative tone of voice. "What… do you have against the Lord Black, Dolores?"

Dolores Umbridge had an unreadable expression on her face. "Nothing too… solid. Anything on Sirius Black predates 1982, which is technically ancient by all standards. _Harry Potter_ has quite the list of skeletons, but none of them are of any use to us, not since the trial."

"The newspaper article." Fudge mused, inwardly cursing his blind belief in Lucius instead of verifying with sources. "We did come on the boy too heavily with the publicity we surrounded the event with."

Dolores scowled in indignation. She hadn't been able to forget how the puny little teen had shown her up amongst the other members of the Wizengamot. "That is _impossible._ " She hissed. "Are you _seriously_ suggesting that we have to play _nice_ with that… that… _brat_?"

Cornelius sighed. "Politics isn't the art of the possible, Dolores. It is about choosing between the _disastrous and the unpalatable_. And right now, my survival instincts are telling me that being in Lord Black's good books is the way to go."

While she could _accept_ Cornelius's reasoning, Dolores did not have to like it. Hoping to try and dissuade him, she asked "But Lord Malfoy isn't going to like that very much, would he?" It had generally helped in the past.

"Lucius will be too busy handling the aftermath, I am afraid." Cornelius sighed. He knew the game was playing. She always had a massive inferiority complex. "We have to play the game, Dolores. We either play the game or get crushed by the players. That is the way it goes on."

Dolores wiped the scowl off her face, replacing it with a fake cheesy smile. "Of course, Minister." She hoped that she soon found enough rope to hang that brat with.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: New additions to our Roster**

 **PETER PETTIGREW – DANE DEHAAN**

 **CORBAN YAXLEY – JOHN NOBLE**

 **MARCUS JUGSON – ANDY SERKIS**

 **EDWARD NOTT – JED BROPHY**

 **BENJAMIN ROSIER – CHRISTOPHER ECCLESTON**

 **So, we're back from hibernation. Took some time to get some things going, but we are on a roll, however temporary it may be.**

 **Thanks to all reviewers who loved the previous chapters. Too bad for those who didn't. Now, to answer certain reviews**

 **To Smutley Do Wrong: You are right on the money on quite a few points. Thanks for pointing out a few mistakes and mishaps. Your idea is pretty cool. Maybe we** _ **will**_ **do it. Only time will tell. The dummy is a specialized version used at Durmstrang, designed to replicate the effects of curses.**

 **Frozenwave: Thank you for liking the story. We did plan on using flashbacks in between the lines. But we had too much PAST to write. So, we went with our current modus operandi for this fic.**

 **MichiruKaio: Well, a non-linear story was our second idea and we went with it. Glad you like it.**

 **Kevblkred: Sorry for not writing the story to** _ **your**_ **liking. Would you like some fries to go with that?**

 **Now, onto the cast of the TLOTP**

 **Sirius: Sorry, buddy.**

 **James: Why?**

 **Sirius: I slept with Lily.**

 **James: WHAT?**

 **Sirius: On your wedding night.**

 **James: No- Bu- It- I was awake all night.**

 **Sirius: We legilimized you to think that.**

 **James: Why y-**

 **Lily:** _ **Obliviate. Stupefy.**_ ***James is struck out* Padfoot, darling. Look what you did. Now I have to change his memory again. That's the third time this week.**

 **Sirius: I know. But it's quite funny to see his reaction.**

 **Lily: Well, want to try it with him in the room?**

 **Sirius: You read my mind**

 **Sorry, folks. My fellow author is a quite sick fellow with no shame. I shall try to make sure he doesn't pull suc-**

 ***Author knocked out***

 **Phew. Don't worry, folks. There's more where that came from.**


	13. Rituals and reactions

**Black Manor, Bulgaria**

The Black Manor in Bulgaria had once been a fortress built by the Norwegian druids during their attempts to conquer the magical byzantine community. A century or two later, the land had been conquered by Sagittarius Ares Black in the year 1342. Since that day, the newly captured and renovated manor had become the main seat of the Family that had grown to gain infamy across all of Magical Europe through the late 1500's. Later, in 1659, Lord Cygnus Black bought the Number 12, Grimmauld Place, noticing the rather queer muggle building standing above a confluence of three magical ley-lines. He rebuilt the building into a full sized wizarding townhouse; the house becoming the primary residence of the Blacks, the manor in Bulgaria being reduced to the status of their country house. It had frequently hosted retiring Lords of the House of Black in their old age and had become their stronghold and safehouse.

Built over several hectares of lush grassland, the manor and its grounds were unplottable and possessed some of the most advanced wards in Europe, invisible to anyone, muggle or magical, not keyed or invited into the wards. The manor occupied a position in the centre of the grounds, the majority of the space was heavily forested, home to many magical creatures.

The air in front of the foreboding gates of the manor rippled for a split second before the sound of a cracking whip was heard. Portkey journey complete, Ares Black stood in front of his home of fourteen years. Slightly disoriented, he smiled at the thought of meeting his Pad in a few minutes.

As Ares moved forward, the wards made a scan of the approaching wizard. Recognising him as a master of the manor they guarded, the allowed access, the large metal gates opening with nary a sound.

As he moved past the gate, Ares keenly felt the power of the wards wash over him. Ever since he had learnt to _truly_ sense magic, the sheer complexity and power of the wards amazed him. Living under their protection for years, he sometimes forgot these same wards kept him and Sirius safe for over a decade and were capable of withstanding a full scale siege.

Walking across the straight path through the woods leading to the manor, a smirk settled on his youthful face. While he would agree that the trial went better than expected, _much better_ , the aftermath had been _even better_ , especially considering the fact that he had dealt with _Albus bloody Dumbledore_.

* * *

 _ **After the Trial…**_

 _The doors of the Wizengamot chamber opened and the Lords, ladies and dignified authorities walked out of the chamber towards the lift that would take them up to the Ministry Atrium. It was almost a blessing that the chamber was on the second floor, rather than through an entrance from the atrium. If it was, they would have already been mobbed the hordes of reporters vying for news like a dragon went after prey. At least, these few moments of peace would help them prepare for the upcoming horde. With any luck, they would completely focus on the Boy-Who-Lived, allowing them to escape quickly._

 _The moment the lift had stopped, a ding sounding through the wizard spaced elevator, the doors opened to the atrium and Ares, being at the front, found himself facing dozens of flashes and questions being shouted at him by a swarm of reporters who were waiting to hound him after the trial._

 _Ignoring the cacophony of noises, a result of all the reporters speaking at the same time, Ares cleared his throat loudly. Surprising him, the move seemed to have worked as the reporters slowly fell into silence. He walked forward, followed by Dumbledore and the Minister of Magic, who was looking quite out of place in a public arena – something that Ares thought looked a fish struggling to wade through water it that spent its entire life in._

" _I will do my best to answer your questions, as long as they are appropriate." Ares replied smoothly. "I only request that you pose them calmly."_

" _Mister Potter. Rita Skeeter from the Daily Prophet." Rita said, dressed in a garish red robe, with excessive makeup and a Quick-quotes quill already writing across a piece of parchment floating above her. "What do you have to say about Sirius Black, the man who kidnapped you from your homeland all those years ago?"_

 _Ares stared at the notorious reporter in front of him and smirked. What he actually wanted to was not for display in front of polite company. Besides, Pad would give a long lecture before planning his own prank. "That he is perhaps the greatest father I could ever have had."_

 _Rita grit her teeth, and asked with a false smile._ Brat! _"You are known to publicly denigrate your identity as a Potter. You also loudly proclaim yourself as a Black. Any comments on that?"_

 _Harry smiled, much to Rita's scorn. "Baseless rumours, I am afraid. I am proud of the sacrifices my family has made, both for wizarding Britain and myself and I am striving to live up to their achievements. With that being said, my father, Lord Sirius Black, took me in, adopted me as part of the Black family and has done his utter best to care for me. My self-acknowledgment as a member of the House of Black is merely a small acknowledgement of all my father has done for me."_

 _Before Rita could counter his statement with another question, she was interrupted by another reporter, a tall blonde haired man dressed in a three-piece suit, from her side. "Kurt Clove from the Herald, Mister Black." The man said as Ares flashed him a smile. "What are your feelings about the attack on your reputation and the attempt at Line-theft on your family?"_

 _Snickering inwardly, Ares gave a long, fake suffering sigh. "This is the first time I have set foot in Britain since the death of my parents in 1981. The only reason I have arrived here is because of the law that forces me to acquire my OWL's and NEWT's from Hogwarts, instead of taking through a private exam at the WEA. I certainly did not expect the travesty I was put through. I had never imagined that the Ministry of Britain was so ignorant as to arrest an Heir without due process and drag him in front of the_ entire _Wizengamot for a trial that barely procedure." He gave a significant pause as he discreetly glanced at the Headmaster, who was surprisingly silent through the interview, a feat that Ares did not think was possible._

 _He paused once again, pulling off his best look of resignation, perfected after years of dealing with three house elves, a childish father and an instructor who was the devil incarnate. "I was vilified by the Daily Prophet for a mere ability, dragged through the mud for stating my legitimate inheritance and outright abused by some auror named… Draw-leash?" Heaving a put on sigh, he continued speaking. "But I found people who are willing to help navigate the troubles I encountered. I wish to pass on my gratitude to Director Bones for following what procedures she could, despite the obstacles in her path and for performing admirably under coercion; My cousin, Auror Nymphadora Tonks for ensuring my safety; Regent Longbottom, Lord Greengrass, and Lord Nott for their support of me; and the members of the Wizengamot for quickly identifying and correcting the gross miscarriage of justice that has occurred today."_

 _Rubbing his eyes in apparent fatigue, he said "Right now, all I wish is for an extended leave of absence to go home and spend some time with my father."_

" _Headmaster," Another reporter clawed her way to the front of the crowd. "Erica McDonalds, The Mage Post." She stated as she pushed the microphone towards Dumbledore who seemed to be caught in the headlights. "What do have to say about Mister Black's request for a leave of absence?"_

" _I…" The older man cleared his throat, took a deep unnoticeable breath and said "I am sure that, owing to the circumstances, an extended leave could be arranged for Mister Black to spend time with his family provided-"_

" _I would like to leave for my home immediately, Headmaster." Ares stated boldly to the other man. He could see the flash of irritation deep behind the deep blue orbs._

 _Showing none of his inward irritation, Dumbledore said "Of course, you may. However, please return to_ your _school as soon as possible. After all, it would not do to delay your studies for your upcoming OWL exams."_

" _Of course," Ares replied gratefully, "Thank you, Headmaster."_

" _Mister Black," The international reporter turned from Dumbledore to Ares, pen running quickly on her pad. "Considering you have been privately educated for the better part of your life, what are your opinions on Hogwarts, however_ brief _it may have been so far?"_

 _Ares smiled inwardly. The Americans had never liked Britain and would look for any excuse to one-up them. Luckily, he was inclined to go along with their interests. For now. "Well, I have my concerns about the History of Magic class." The reporter had a near-look of glee on her face. "I am satisfied with the classes I have attended thus far."_

 _The reporter seemed to catch his inflection and nodded discreetly in thanks._

" _Will Lord Black take up his seat in the upcoming Wizengamot session?" asked another reporter, a small portly man with a well-groomed moustache and bowler hat._

" _I'm afraid only my father can answer that." Ares answered with a smile. "Thank you for the questions. But I must now leave."_

* * *

Smirking to himself, Ares reached the front door of the manor. The official Wizengamot session would be held on the twenty second of September. That was two weeks away. It gave him ample time to take care of a few things he had put on hold due to his travel to Britain. There was no way he was returning to Hogwarts until _after the session._

Ares opened the door, stepped into the entrance hall of the manor and closed the door behind him. Looking at the blue décor, he was reminded of the time his father was attacked by a man he considered a friend. His finger twitched at the thought, his magic rushing a bit faster.

Walking further into the hall, he began planning for the next two weeks. _Got a visit to make. A few experiments to take care of. And I need to borrow a book or two…_

He stopped for a second, considering the situation so far. Thinking on it, he knew he had matters to deal with in Britain too. One of his major priorities was Daphne. He was _pretty sure_ his _extremely irritated_ girlfriend would, as soon as she got her hands on him, hug the life out of him before hexing his ass into next week. He would have to meet with her, but a letter would have to suffice for now.

 _Sorry Daph. I will have to make it up to you._

However, there were _significant_ reasons for him to _not be_ at Hogwarts until after the session. Since it was publicly proven that he was the legitimate Heir of Black, the reaction of the student population would shift dramatically, in Slytherin house at the very least. He could see the plotting in their heads, offers of alliances, friendships and betrothals. He shivered at the thought of Parkinson batting her eyelashes at him.

It would be… _dissentious_ to the plans he and Padfoot had cooked up for the session.

Speaking of his father, where was he?

It was… strange. There was no way his father would _not have_ felt his entrance into the grounds and manor. The wards would have alerted him. He had half-expected his father to rush out of the manor before he was halfway across the grounds. Maybe it was just the child in him, refusing to grow up.

 _Must be busy with a visitor._

Deciding on his course of action, he cleared his voice and yelled, "Matty!"

The rather excitable, hyperactive female elf _popped_ in front of him, her mouth widened in surprise and glee. "Master Ares is back! Kreacher was sure Master would not return soon. Matty is happy that Master is back so soon."

"Where is Pad?" Ares did not return the greeting. He knew exactly how much the elves hated him… well, hated his experiments. They weren't big fans of burnt rooms and broken furniture.

Matty gave a long-suffering sigh. "Master is… _quarrelling_ with old Master Black."

 _What the fuck was that?_ Ares blinked at the statement "With _who_?" he stressed the word.

"Master Arcturus's portrait, Master Ares. Master is quarrelling with Master Arcturus's portrait."

 _Grandfather's portrait? But… wasn't it a muggle one?_

Ares stared at the elf. "Take me to him."

* * *

 _ **A couple of hours earlier…**_

 _In the spacious Lord' study of the Black Manor, Sirius Orion Black, the Lord Black, paced the room like a father waiting for his teenage daughter to arrive before curfew. It was contrary to the controlled calm persona he showed the rest of the world. He had been a mess since he had received his copy of the Daily Prophet (magic certainly made distances unimportant) and first-hand read the articles shaming his son and Heir in derogatory terms. The prankster part of him wanted to jump in joy for his son pulling off the plan without a hitch, but another part of him, the father in him, wanted to burn the cell in which his son was imprisoned. Sure, it would serve to strengthen their cause and provide Ares with a better position on the field, but his parental instincts protested the treatment of his son vehemently. It was all he could do to not walk into the Ministry and knock out all of Fudge's teeth from his smug, smarmy mouth._

 _The familiar sound of house-elf apparition distracted him from his thoughts. Halting his uneasy pacing, he looked up to see Kreacher standing near the desk._

 _Not caring to mask his irritation at the interruption, he asked "What can I do for you, Kreacher?"_

 _While he and Kreacher had never had an amiable relationship during his childhood, and they had started off on the wrong foot when they first arrived at the manor, they had developed a working relationship over time, with Kreacher becoming more loyal to Sirius, especially since he had begun to claim the Black heritage. The favourable comments from Cassiopeia during her stay had certainly mellowed the old elf._

" _Mistress Cassiopeia sent a letter, Master Black." Kreacher answered._

 _Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Aunt Cassie? After all this time?" Curious at the unexpected message, he said "Show me."_

 _The elf quickly produced a tiny piece of parchment which was banished to the desk._

 _Walking to the desk, he took up the parchment and flipped it. His eyes widened in surprise at the single line written in vivid green ink. He read it twice to ensure his eyes were not deceiving him. He cast a few detection charms to check for enchantments. The tests were negative. He looked at the paper and uttered the words written on it. "A PRANK WELL DONE?"_

 _No sooner had he uttered the words when he felt magic radiate out of the parchment turning his robes into a vivid, Slytherin green with silver linings. Hearing throaty giggles, he glared at the blasted elf giggling like a school-girl while he tried, and failed, to dispel the enchantment off himself. Glaring at the still giggling elf, he barked, "What's with the prank, Kreacher?"_

" _I must say… You look like a walking advertisement for the Slytherin Quidditch team. You've even got the matching hair style." The deep, cultured voice that accompanied the amused tone could have belonged to only one person on earth._

 _Arcturus Orion Black._

 _Spinning around to face his grandfather's magical, no-longer-muggle, portrait, Sirius felt his jaw drop. He had always wondered why his grandfather had a muggle portrait of himself placed in the study. Realising it was simply a ruse, he continued to stare at the one member of the Black family who had treated him right, and brought him back into the family after his banshee of a mother had evicted him from Grimmauld place._

 _Arcturus Black smirked at his grandson's stupefied voice. "Hello my grandson, it is nice to see you in my position. Although I must admit, you could do without the extra green and silver. There is such a thing as overkill." The portrait exclaimed in amusement._

" _Wha- H-Ho- Who-?" Sirius stammered._

" _Very elucidative, Sirius." Arcturus admonished, amusement still ringing in his voice. "Despite all the years and your education in our heritage, you still remain the same bumbling Gryffindor as always"_

" _I thought you were… you know; the portrait was a muggle one." Sirius replied, his mind still unable to warp around the sudden surprise._

" _And here I was, thinking that you had finally become a Slytherin" Arcturus grumbled. Adopting a formal tone, he continued, "I charmed this portrait to appear muggle. I could still watch and listen but could not communicate. The enchantment in the parchment broke the charm."_

 _Realisation finally hit Sirius. His aunt had always evaded his questions about her source of information. "It was you! You told Aunt about my need for a Dark Arts tutor." It was an accusation; a mere statement of fact._

" _I did." Arcturus agreed. "Your son, my future heir, needed help. What kind of a grandfather would I be if I did not do all I could to help my grandson?"_

" _Of course." Sirius countered in a snarky voice, remembering how much he disliked the fact that Cassiopeia had taught Ares more knowledge than he was comfortable with. It had not helped that his son had taken to the teachings like a Veela to fire._

" _Don't be an idiot, Sirius." Arcturus admonished. He had always disliked Sirius's narrow view of magic. "The boy is a_ natural _at the_ Dark Arts _. I am confident that he will wield the Family Magic far better I ever did."_

 _Sirius fidgeted under his grandfather's disappointed gaze. Looking at the portrait after a moment, he asked "Aren't you… you know, disappointed in… well, that I didn't continue the line?"_

 _Arcturus gazed at Sirius. "Tell me, are you?" His tone did not betray any emotion._

 _Sirius looked his grandfather in the eye. "I don't." His tone held nothing but pride and joy. "He is my son, by blood and by magic."_

" _A rather good son." Arcturus praised. "He carries the blood of three great houses. He will make a formidable Lord Black someday."_

 _Sirius smiled at the praise for his son. Smile turning cheeky, he said, "I knew you would agree. Ares reminds me a lot of… well, you really."_

 _Arcturus beamed._

 _Expression turning serious, Sirius asked "Why reveal yourself after all this time? I am sure you and my aunt shared one too many laughs over me." He nearly grumbled. After over a decade of being the responsible and elder one, it felt refreshing to be a teenager in front of his grandfather._

 _Arcturus answered, his voice completely serious. "Several factors. My original reason for the charm was to ensure you learnt to make your own decisions, without relying on my advice. You were far too used to taking orders. You had to mature and become a True Lord. Having me around would not have achieved that." Expression darkening, he continued, "As for why I decided to awake this portrait, take a guess."_

" _Voldemort." Sirius replied with a scowl._

" _Yes," The portrait agreed. "Ares has finally stepped into the world, pitting himself against those who would seek to harm him and his. You have grown as a Lord, both in strength and experience, and our House will be great once again. I decided that I could be an advisor, provide you the perspective you sometimes lack."_

" _Of course," Sirius beamed at his grandfather. He had always respected the skill and intelligence of Arcturus Black, both in magic and politics._

 _Arcturus scowled at his grandson. "Now, why did you let my Heir suffer such indignities as part of an immature prank."_

 _Sirius groaned._

* * *

 **Back to the present…**

Ares and Matty _popped_ in front of the Lord's study. He was quiet thankful for the house elf not _popping_ him into the garden again.

The elf popped away immediately and Ares opened the door to the study, only to hear his father yelling loudly at, and openly quarrelling with, a deep cultured voice. He assumed it was Arcturus Black's portrait. Since he was a muggle portrait could not suddenly turn magical, he deduced it must have been enchanted to appear as such.

"Pad?" He spoke loudly, entering the Lord's study.

"And for the last time I am telling you that-" Sirius yelled, before stopping midway, spinning around, his face lit in happiness, "Ares!"

"Pad!" Ares returned softly, allowing his father rush forward and hug him. Padfoot was great at hugs.

Pushing himself away, Sirius held his son by the shoulders, gaze roving his features. "Are you alright? They didn't trouble you, did they? If they did, just tell me and I-"

"Relax, Pad." Ares laughed. "It was comfortable. Besides, I even met family at the DMLE. Tonks."

"Little Nymphadora?" Sirius asked, his tone amused. "How was she?"

"A fire-cracker." Ares admitted. "Totally awesome." He really did like her. Her playful personality, combined with her metamorphmagus ability, made her a really cool person. The fact that she was the only auror, besides Shacklebolt and Bones, to talk to him without any insults helped endear her.

Sirius chortled at the description. "That she is." Patting his son's shoulder again before dropping his arms, he said, "I am just happy that you are alright. I was just-"

"Ahem!"

The voice of his grandfather's portrait alerted Sirius to the other's presence in the room. He, felling a bit of guilt, turned towards the portrait and apologised sheepishly. "Right, sorry." Clearing his throat, he turned to his son and said, in a voice reserved for official meetings, "Ares, meet your late grandfather, Lord Arcturus Orion Black."

"Just grandfather will do." The portrait replied in an amused tone.

Ares took a much closer look at the portrait. The man had a rather regal look to his face, and he could imagine other Wizengamot members cringe at his presence. What he had not expected was the tone of amusement he usually heard from Aunt Cassie. She and Sirius had made remarks that made his grandfather sound like a stern, no-nonsense man with no sense of humour.

"How are you, Ares?" Arcturus asked fondly.

"I'm fine." Ares answered. Glancing at his father, he wondered how he was supposed to behave. Following his usual manners in front of strangers, he decided his lessons would help. Adopting a formal tone, he said "Thank you for asking, Lord Black."

Arcturus chuckled. "Formality is for lesser witches and wizards. You are my grandson. You shall call me grandfather."

Ares nodded slowly.

Arcturus smiled widely and asked "So tell me Ares, how did your… _experiment_ go?"

Ares stared at him in surprise, before shifting his gaze to his father.

"Apparently, he's been active since the beginning" Sirius grumbled, not happy about the prank his grandfather pulled on him. "Today, he decided we need his help."

Arcturus laughed, knowing what Sirius was thinking. "Oh come now, Sirius. Where do you think you got your pranking skills from?"

Sirius groaned once again.

* * *

 **Sometime later…**

"Three _favours,_ huh?" Arcturus asked proudly. "You will be a formidable Lord Black, Ares. Learn from your boy, Sirius."

Sirius muttered incomprehensibly under his breath.

Gazing shifting to Sirius, Arcturus asked, "What have you planned for the upcoming session at the Wizengamot."

Sirius replied, "I am activating the Black seat. I will also activate the Potter and Slytherin seats and assume regency." Imagining the reaction that would cause, he chortled. "That will put those doxies in a tizzy."

"Some of them are our allies too, Pad." Ares reminded him.

"All doxies except them." Sirius pronounced without missing a beat. "I can guess what the Dark Alliance must be going through. Ole' Lucius must be pissing himself."

Ares shook his head in disbelief. For all his apparent maturity and status as a Lord, Pad was the ultimate child at times. Remembering a surprise from his trial, he said, "We _might_ have another ally, Pad."

Both Lords, human and portrait stared at him in complete attention.

"Lord Edward Nott demonstrated support during my trial."

"He's a Death eater." Sirius replied offhandedly.

"And his heir is my friend." Ares returned. "And apparently one of Daph's closest friends."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "A _sensible_ Nott?"

"Pfft!" Arcturus sneered. "Stop seeing people through rose-tainted glasses, Sirius. Do I need to remind you how the werewolf turned up?"

Sirius sneered back. "Nott is a Death eater."

"Actually," Ares countered, "Theo says that his father was a financial supporter. Considering the entire Dark Alliance was playing into Voldemort's hands, it was the only move available. That, or be killed along with family."

"He could have…" Sirius returned, before realizing the futility of his argument. It wasn't like the Order of Phoenix would have helped him. It was barely able to save itself. "Never mind." He answered. Looking at his son, he asked "What about him?"

"Well," Ares considered his words. It would not do to give his father any reason to antagonise Nott without a meeting at least. "From what I gather, Nott cannot support without being killed immediately. I was wondering if we could come to an agreement, gentleman to gentleman."

"You want _me_ to meet with a Death Eater?" Sirius asked.

Ares scowled – his father could be clueless at times - and said, "No. If I read the situation correctly, _Nott_ will approach _you_ for a meeting within a week or so."

Sirius sighed. "It's settled. I am declaring you my proxy. I cannot wait for you to finish your NEWT's and take up the seats yourself."

Ares smirked, but scowled inwardly. He'd rather fight a dragon than bother with politics voluntarily.

* * *

 **The next day…**

Ares arrived in the courtyard of _Manoir Flamel_ via portkey, the same portkey he was issued four years ago. Four years of training and he had yet to understand how his tutor had created the reusable portkey that did not need a recast and worked flawlessly. All his questions on the subject were met with an amused smirk.

"Ares."

Hearing the familiar female voice, Ares turned to his right, facing the flower gardens and the woman seated at the tea table, a newspaper in her hand, a tea set with a single cup and a plate of cakes on the table.

Perenelle stood up from her chair, folding the newspaper and placing it on the table.

Ares crossed the gate to the garden. Just as always, he saw his tutor standing at the tea-table, and once again, there was a single cup of tea. Four years of spending time in _Manoir Flamel_ and he had never once caught a glimpse of the elusive Nicholas Flamel. There were no pictures in the manor to help him either.

"I'm surprised that you are back so soon," Perenelle commented softly, still standing at the table as Ares approached her. "I wasn't expecting to see you for another month, at the very least." She paused for a moment. "Then again, knowing you and your… penchant for trouble, I should have seen this coming."

Standing close to his tutor, Ares shrugged at the comment. "I thought I could use the extra time to proceed with the final stage."

Perenelle narrowed her eyes. "Ares Black, I very well remember warning you about it. _Amalgamation_ is not to be taken lightly. This is not one of your insane schemes. _"_

"But it is working." Ares almost whined, only to control his tone at her irritated expression. "I have been testing myself since the beginning of the year. All the tests have been positive."

"Your attitude is not of one who has spent their time studying the ancient arts." Perenelle chastised him. "If you are indeed so _sure,_ " She drawled her words. "then we will proceed."

Ares's face shifted into a large grin, before his tutor spoke again.

"However, remember that proceeding with this would mean that you will _not be able_ to use… _any magic…_ for the next week. For all intents and purposes, you will be a _squib."_

Ares choked. "For a… _week!_?" It was beyond his imagination. "Couldn't I- I don't know- drink up a vial of the Draught of Living Death? At least I would sleep through the week."

"You could always delay it until the summer..." Perenelle offered mischievously. The boy was quite amusing, which offset the irritating and migraine-inducing stunts he usually pulled.

Ares shook his head. "Not an option. I suppose I could ask Pad to teach me magical theory, if nothing else, and if that doesn't work, then I will just have to bunk in the library." It wasn't the best way to spend the week, but beggars could not be choosers.

"Tell me Ares, why are you trying _so hard_?" Perenelle asked, expression and voice serious. "I'm sure it's not the fear of living at Hogwarts."

Ares replied, "Pad and I are going to activate the Slytherin seat at the Wizengamot on 22nd. I'm… not sure about the aftermath, and want to be prepared for the worst case scenario. Can't put anything past those idiots."

Perenelle raised her eyebrows. "And, pray tell me, why is it that you _think_ ,that going ahead with this insane idea is the best path? Especially since the Dark Lord is back? I am pretty sure there are easier ways to make yourself a high-priority target."

Ares winced at her biting remark. "I know, but this is the perfect time. The public are on my side at the moment and I only have a small window to take advantage of it. Any later, and it would only cause a negative reaction"

"I… see." replied Perenelle. If she felt anything about, her face and voice did not betray her.

"So when can we get on with the first step?" Ares asked.

Perenelle groaned. The boy could be a handful at times. "You have a one-track mind."

Ares snickered.

* * *

Most witches and wizards were of the belief that rituals were extremely complex and evil magic that Dark wizards used to gain all sorts of miraculous powers. They could not be blamed for it, since less than one in a thousand even knew the basic principles of rituals and the magic surrounding them. The loss of knowledge over the millennia and the fear of the unknown only served to drive practitioners into obscurity.

The true nature of rituals was either too simple or too complex to be put into words.

Rituals relied on harnessing ambient magical energies through highly complex or highly simple pieces of foci, whether they be objects, geometrical shapes, runes, ingredients, elements or sacrifices. The ritual would utilise the foci to manifest the purpose it was designed for and the intent of the user further shapes the end result.

They are considered highly dangerous because of the close tie between the result and the user's intent. Unlike a wand which may or may not follow the user's intent, rituals are more in tune with the user's thoughts than any other piece of magic ever created. Hence, a stray thought could completely derail the ritual, causing the end result to not match the user's requirement, drive the user insane, kill him, destroy everything around them or causing consequences that nobody would expect. The extremely high danger of rituals going wrong, combined with the hundreds of accidents over the past millennia, drove many governments to outlaw their use.

Today, Ares had decided to go ahead with the ritual he and Lady Flamel had been planning for quite some time. However, unlike his experiences, this was no mere ritual, if you could even actual a ritual as such.

The ritual-chamber located deep below the mansion had been prepared for months, the runic chains and matrices drawn to perfection, checked again and again to ensure nothing was out of place. The ritual used three runic chains surrounded by twin triangles and a wide area matrix of runes drawn across the ground and air. The first runic chain was drawn using Phoenician runes representing resurrection. The next chain, the twenty-four alphabets of the Elder Futhark, representing power. The third chain, Parseltongue, the language of the ancient Serpent Lords, representing Ouroboros, the symbol of immortality. The three chains were enclosed within twin triangles of Sanskrit alphabets, representing flesh. The matrix was drawn with a combination of all above runes, representing stability.

Ares stood in the centre of the three circles, naked as the day he was born, as he mentally prepared for the ritual that would take place. Most wizards with sufficient knowledge on rituals tended to use one too many of them, driving themselves insane with the feeling of intoxication generated by a ritual. On the other hand, Ares relied on the principle taught by his tutor: Always use the most minimum of resources, but ensure the result would be _optimum_. It was the reason for choosing _Amalgamation_ in the first place.

* * *

 _ **February 17, 1993.**_

 _"Madame Flamel," Ares countered. "this is my_ _life_ _we are talking about. I would just be…_ _happy_ _if we can get that…_ _thing_ _out of me. Bollocks to optimum results."_

 _"And therein speaks the Gryffindor." Perenelle muttered under her breath. She stared at her student for a full minute before speaking. "The optimum path would be to not only get rid of the soul-shard, but also gain an advantage from it."_

 _"How?" Ares challenged._

 _And then Perenelle gave him the answer._

 _Ares Black frowned for a moment, as he digested the idea in his mind. It seemed disgusting at first, but, as she had trained him to do, he observed it from a_ _coldly analytical perspective_ _. Looking at Perenelle, he asked "But… how? From what I understand, it will take far too many rituals to even reach the halfway point on this path. And you have always mentioned that I must limit myself to either three or seven rituals, but no more. You told me it was too dangerous to exceed them, especially since rituals tend to keep a magical core in a constant state of flux."_

 _Perenelle stared at Ares._

 _Ares recognised the look on her face. It was her 'I-know-something-you-don't' look. Cocking an eyebrow, he asked "Well?"_

 _Perenelle smirked at her apprentice. "There is an unconventional approach… one which would be of great use to you. However, the practice is frowned upon due to the heavy risks involved even more than most rituals. However," Her smirk held both mischief and condescension. "the rewards are worth it."_

 _Ares knew what that meant. They were going to do it, whether he liked it, or not._

 _Expression turning serious, Perenelle said "I will need your help for this, since the ritual involves the use of Parseltongue."_

 _Ares's ears perked up in curiosity. His tutor rarely let him help with anything. Something about a 'hyperactive-overreaching-brain' that his tutor kept muttering about from time to time._

 _Inwardly, Perenelle was wary about the look on Ares's face. It was the very same expression he would make before starting one of his crazy schemes. Making a note to keep track of his future activities with more scrutiny, she said "The process is known as Amalgamation. It is a combination of rituals performed in sequence to form a greater ritualistic effect. The benefit is that it will be far more stable than a single ritual."_

" _And the catch?" Ares asked shrewdly._

 _Perenelle looked at him with an amused expression. "Rituals were not meant for the process used in amalgamation. To divine a single ritual is a task of immense will, intent and complexity. To combine multiple rituals raises the effort exponentially, since the chance of the rituals reacting unfavourably with each other is far greater."_

 _While he did feel trepidation, Ares's face held a hopeful expression as he stared at his tutor. "But you will be… I mean, It's you. Perenelle Flamel. If you can't do it, I don't think anyone else can…"_

 _Perenelle fell silent at the words. After a moment of awkward silence in which Ares wondered if he had said the wrong thing, she spoke quietly, her tone strange. "I am… me." She trailed off._

 _Ares raised an eyebrow at his tutor's uncharacteristic behaviour, but he held back his comments. This was one of the rare instances in which he could get a tiny glimpse of the person behind the mask. There were a few such moments over the years, but none of the pieces fit together. It drove him mad._

 _Snapping out of her reverie, Perenelle spoke in her usual tone, one of steel and mischief. "Right. You will first need to undergo through a cleansing ritual. It will clear any impurities from your core and system. It will also clear your system of any unstable or unwanted pieces or links that you may have collected over the years."_

 _Ares sighed at the pompous tone of his tutor but refused comment._

* * *

"Re'em blood for strength." Perenelle muttered, as she placed a tiny amount of the blood on one of the three sectors of the outer chain. "Salamander blood for rejuvenation." She poured three drops before moving to the final sector. "Asphodel root for rebirth."

The woman looked at her student and said, "These three substances will augment the effects of the Futhark, Phoenician and serpentine runic circles."

"What do I do next?" Ares asked.

Perenelle stared hard at him for a moment. "Remember. Once I start the ritual, the twin triangles will drain your magic. You must _not_ resist. If you do, it will only prolong your suffering."

Ares raised an eyebrow, but nodded quickly.

At his nod, Perenelle moved beyond the range of the ritual and waved her softly glowing hands, the runes within the room glowing softly before returning to their usual state.

Ares felt the pressure in the room increase as the magic surrounding him grew in strength. After a few moments, he was dragged to the floor by an intangible force. He barely held himself using all four limbs.

The pressure continued to grow in intensity, causing immense pain to Ares as he barely held himself up. A moment later, he felt his magic being ripped out of him at a blinding rate as he felt the runic chains glow with an eldritch energy.

Ares knew what would come next.

 _Pain._

It was nothing he had ever felt before. He could swear that every single bone in his body was being shattered into dust, but reforming at the same time. His nerves were burning with such intensity that the Cruciatus felt like a tickling charm. Killing curse eyes glowed with unbridled power as his magic was ripped out of him, faster and faster, exacerbating his pain.

And then Ares Black screamed.

Perenelle looked at Ares with something that was almost, but not quite, apprehension. She knew that the pain would be unfathomable. However, she knew that if someone could do it, it would be her student. After all, he was destined for greatness. The plan had been rather simple. Three rituals, the first for the _physical shell_ , the second for the _mind_ , and the third for the _soul_. Three amalgamations, which would in turn, give her student all that he wanted. Three rituals, after which, she would be able to….

A smile formed on her face as the ritual neared completion.

Ares tightened his fists as the ethereal glow from the ritual radiated out an immense explosion of light and magic, as he felt his hold on his body slowly cease. The ball of light surrounding Ares expanded outward to cover all the chains and the very edge of the matrix before it rolled back into him, knocking him out.

* * *

Five hours later, Ares Black slowly regained his consciousness. Gingerly, he tried to push his aching body up, but his fatigued muscles gave away and he dropped unceremoniously. He tried again only to fall faster than his first try.

After what seemed to be a dozen tries, he finally managed to move into a seated position. His mind felt like it was filled cobwebs. Once he obtained a modicum of perception, he tried to stand, only to fall flat on the floor. It took him a few minutes before he finally managed to stand upright. His mind had recovered significantly by this point.

Slowly, he walked towards the north end of the room. Arriving in front of an ornate glass mirror, he took a moment to recover his breath. _I'm going to hate this week._

He looked up to his reflection on the mirror's crystal clear surface. At first glance, there did not seem to be any great difference. A closer look revealed that his body had filled up quite a bit in the muscle department. His eyes seemed to glow with a slight increase in brightness. But, overall, he could not see any true difference.

"You are looking for the changes in the wrong place, Ares."

He spun back and found himself looking at his tutor, who held his robes in her hands. "Your robes," She offered, "you have been unconscious for over five hours."

 _Five hours?_

Ares slowly walked towards her and gingerly took hold of his robes and dressed himself.

Perenelle stood at a distance, waiting for Ares to finish. When he was finally done, she walked up to him and waved her hand over him.

Ares felt like he was hit with a freshening charm.

"You know, Ares, it was _incredibly naïve_ of you to submit to a ritual without knowing all its effects in the first place." Perenelle remarked condescendingly.

Ares grinned, rubbing the back of his head. "I thought that, ' _trust your teacher, and never lose your way,_ ' was one of the rules."

Perenelle smirked, patting his head. "The ritual increased your rejuvenation ability by a significant degree. Your injuries will now heal faster, and your endurance to injuries caused by Dark magic has been augmented."

"I could feel my bones shatter and reform." Ares mumbled. That was one experience he really did not want to repeat. On the other hand, he felt his tolerance for pain might have improved.

Perenelle waved her hand. "An effect of the ritual. To create a stronger form, it needed to destroy the previous shell. In a manner of speaking, you have been reborn in a newer and significantly better human form."

"But I don't feel all that different." Ares countered.

"You should not, and I hope you never have to find out." Perenelle replied warmly. "Besides, do you know why Lord Voldemort is regarded as one of the worst Dark Lords in magical history?"

Ares shook his head.

Perenelle smirked. "It is because his rejuvenation abilities are nothing short of miraculous. The man had been held captive inside a powerful locking ward containing free Fiendfyre. After several minutes, he singlehandedly tore down the entire ward, walking out, his body untouched by the flames."

"Un-touched?" Ares stuttered in shock. "He is immune to _Fiendfyre_?"

"Not literally. His rejuvenation powers are simply that powerful. There are accounts of the Dark Lord losing an arm or a leg during his battles with the hit-wizard and Auror forces. However, the appendages would just grow back."

Ares blanched. "How the _hell_ can someone kill an entity like that?"

"You are asking the wrong question." Perenelle returned softly. "The question you should be asking is, how did he _become_ like that."

"You mean," Ares realized, horrified at the prospect. "he gained _that,_ through rituals? I cannot even… _hypothesize_ the sacrifice involved."

"Hmmm," Perenelle drawled. "It is always advisable to know your enemy. For the record, do _you_ consider him as an _enemy?"_

"If I have to." Ares mumbled.

Perenelle raised an eyebrow. "I am surprised. I would have thought that you would want to avenge the death of your parents."

Ares looked away. " _I know_. I know I should feel like that, but I… well, I don't. Not really."

Perenelle did not comment.

"I mean," Ares continued, his face a blank mask. "I know my parents sacrificed their lives for me. But at the same time, they sacrificed their lives so that _I could live._ Throwing myself into avenging their deaths, especially against a man who is, magically, my superior, seems like throwing away their sacrifice. Besides, it was a war, and my parents, no offence, were hardly anything more than young adults. They had no reason to fight on the war-front, especially when their so-called leader, _Albus fucking Dumbledore_ , sat back and did nothing."

Perenelle stared in silence, gesturing for Ares to go on.

"My father took me away from Britain, and has spent his entire life making sure I am safe. Going after Voldemort also means demeaning his own efforts."

"So… you are not going to fight." Perenelle replied softly.

"I am going to stand as a neutral." Ares replied, staring back at her, almost daring her to look into his mind. "Besides, with me holding the Lordship of Slytherin and my quest to become the best damned wizard I can be, it is inevitable that our paths will cross. When push comes to shove, I will fight him. _But_ …" he emphasized, "I am not going to go looking for him."

"Very _Slytherin."_ Perenelle commented. "Your thoughts are admirable, far too mature for your age. Rather… refreshing, I must say."

Ares's expression stayed blank.

Perenelle continued speaking. "Besides, while your knowledge and skill are beyond most people, it is not enough to defeat someone like Voldemort. I would say that, in terms of sheer magical strength, you are his equal, but he holds a lot of knowledge and more importantly, _experience. Fifty years of experience_ in fact."

Ares nodded. "I was thinking of levelling the playing field, by gaining political leverage."

Perenelle nodded. "A good possibility. Although I am quite sure that Albus Dumbledore is not going to take it lightly."

Ares grinned. "Yes, well he can _try._ "

Perenelle raised an eyebrow. "Your enthusiasm is good, Ares. However, make sure that it doesn't lead you to your greatest defeat. The greatest titans of the world are defeated, not by armies, but by _hubris."_

Ares's grin fell at his tutor's admonishment. "I will… keep that in mind."

"See that you do." replied Perenelle. "What are you going to say to your father about your… health?"

He shrugged. "Severe magical exhaustion, probably. Pad never asks too many questions."

Perenelle smiled, a quiet, mischievous smile.

* * *

 **Meanwhile at Hogwarts…**

"Did you read the paper?"

"I heard Harry Potter threatened the entire Wizengamot"

"My mother told me that he escaped Azkaban because of old laws he used."

"When I left home, my father was drinking a lot. He did _not like_ the trial. At all. Now's he's worried about Lord Black's retaliation."

"Did you know Harry Potter tried to murder Lucius Malfoy in the middle of all those ministry blokes?"

"Yeah! I heard that he nearly tore his arms off."

 _Pathetic traitors!_ was the thought flitting through Draco's mind as he walked through the ancient halls of the school. The words he was hearing nearly made him hex the fools who said them.

It had been nearly two days since the trial. Two days since _Harry bloody Potter_ had humiliated his name in the middle of the Wizengamot. The traitorous son of a mudblood had cheated him and his father out of Draco's inheritance and then he was arrogant enough to display it in front of their allies.

When Draco had first seen the ring on Potter's finger, he had immediately realised that the fool had committed line theft. _He_ had stolen _Draco's_ inheritance. Immediately leaving the fall, he had run to the owlery with a hastily written letter to his father, telling about the theft and the attitude of the ponce. He had hoped his father would ensure that a stay in Azkaban would be in the traitor's future.

He had gloated to his underlings about his move when the aurors came to arrest the thief. He had boasted his achievements to the fools he called friends. Once the trial was over, he was going to talk to his father about forcing Greengrass into a betrothal contract. Then he would send a message about her marriage to Potter in Azkaban. It would have been glorious.

Instead, Potter had publicly, somehow, shown that he was the _true_ Heir of the House of Black. He stole the family magicks and displayed them like trophies. His father had been publicly humiliated in front of the entire British government, their allies, the public and Dumbledore.

The day after the trial, the news had been published in the prophet. The entirety of Hogwarts had read the news and now, rumours were flying through the corridors faster than a firebolt. The rumours had ranged from Draco being thrown out of his own family to his father being assassinated outside the Ministry.

The rumours weren't even the worst part. After Ares had verbally beat him down in the Great Hall and the demonstration of parseltongue, Draco had lost much of the power he previously held in Slytherin house and the school. After the trial, people had begun to avoid him like the plague. People who usually worshipped his feet had begun brushing off his attempts at a meeting or even a few words. Pansy had publicly declared that Draco would not be her future husband and had not spoken to him since.

All of it, combined with the smug looks Greengrass and her friends threw his way made him want to fling curses at the lot, especially Harry Potter who was responsible for his humiliation. But his father had sent him a letter, expressly forbidding him from any form of contact with Potter and his associates with a thinly veiled threat of what would happen should he disobey the command.

Draco had shivered at the words. His father could be scary when he wanted to. Even his mother had written him a letter, stating the same and telling him, in no uncertain terms, that consequences would be dire for their entire family if he should act on impulse.

He was seething at the injustice. Not only had he lost all the respect he had gained over the past four years, he was not even allowed to take revenge on the criminals responsible for the miscarriage of justice.

As he passed a couple of Hufflepuffs who were stage whispering about him, a sudden thought struck Draco. _He_ was forbidden from _direct_ contact. It did not mean he could _persuade_ others to do his job for him. After all, what use were underlings if he did not even use them. Glancing at Crabbe and Goyle walking at his heels, he shook his head. He needed more muscle.

And someone with obliviation skills.

He smiled at the plan forming in his mind, He was a Slytherin, after all. And Slytherins always had plans.

* * *

While not the most heavily decorated, the Hufflepuff common room had always been the largest of the four common rooms at Hogwarts. Even at full capacity, it could and would have a few tables or study desks left over. The room was lit by the late afternoon sunlight falling through the windows. This was supposed to be impossible at the floor and angle the windows they were located on. It was just one of those Hogwarts eccentricities taken at face value and people rarely, if ever, gave thought to the enchantment responsible for it.

It was a free period for several of the students and the Heirs had occupied one of the tables to convene their meeting.

"What do you think, Susan?" asked Hannah.

"I don't know what to think, Hannah." Susan leaned back in her chair.

Ernie cut in before Susan could expand her answer. "Right now, it doesn't matter what we think. What we do know is that he played the Wizengamot for fools and had Lucius Malfoy dancing to his tune."

"I'm still surprised he managed to pull it off." said Susan. "My aunt told me he was completely calm through the session. Said it was like he knew what was happening and was letting them dig their own graves."

"The paper says he cheated his way through the trials." Hannah commented in a quiet voice.

Ernie snorted. "Rita Skeeter would not know truth if it stood in front of her lit with a hundred Lumos charms. Hannah, Malfoy was wrong and Harry… _Ares_ demanded his due."

Hannah chewed on her words before asking "It says he asked for some favours. Is that bad?"

Susan opened her mouth, closed it, considered her aunt's words and answered "Not really. My aunt told me Ares demanded satisfaction through the laws of the Ancient Houses. So, unless _Malfoy_ screws up again, he will probably be fine."

Ernie scoffed. "You think Malfoy won't screw up? That's like Hagrid thinking XXXXX creatures are dangerous."

Hannah had pondered her question for quite some time, Unsure if it was polite to ask, she whispered her question. "Is Line Theft that bad?"

"Well," replied Ernie. "According to our laws, it's way beyond using the unforgivable. An unforgivable, even if it is the killing curse, just puts you in Azkaban. A Line theft is so much worse."

Susan decided to elaborate her answer. "Hannah, think of it as someone trying to steal your Family Magic."

"But you can't steal Family Magic!" Hannah said, horrified at the aspect.

Susan patiently clarified her answer. "Yes, you can't. I said it was _like trying to steal it._ Since you are basically trying to rob the family of its magical heritage, it is taken extremely seriously. That's why it is considered suicidal to accuse someone of Line theft without proof."

Justin finally gave his input on the situation. "What Susan's trying to say is that Malfoy accused Ares without proof. And since he tried to steal a _Noble and Most Ancient_ House from its rightful heir, Ares could have taken all the properties and gold, stripped them off their titles and declared them blood traitors."

"Is that what will happen?" asked Hannah quietly.

"Nope." Ernie replied. "The favours were taken under the ancient laws. Malfoy might lose a lot but he won't completely be a pauper at the end."

In his mind, Justin went over the four years of education in magical laws and traditions his friends had taught him. Spotting a technicality, he asked "That doesn't mean Ares, or Lord Black, couldn't do it."

"I doubt it."

Hannah asked "Why?"

Susan replied "Because if they wanted to, they would have done it already. It would have been as public as possible. And you can't get better than the middle of the Wizengamot.

"So what about the alliances?" asked Justin.

Susan and Ernie shared a glance being she answered "We don't really know. Either Ares or his Regent of the Potter House would have to contact our current Heads of House. If the talks go well, the Heirs in Hogwarts would be informed to make contact with Ares and renew the Alliance."

Justin and Hannah got the unspoken message. Susan and Ernie had already received instructions from their families. Hannah opened her mouth to ask before Justin stopped her with a look. This was out of bounds for anyone not of the Alliance.

The atmosphere had become tense since not one of them knew how to continue the conversation.

To break it up, Ernie said "Any chance Malfoy might go bankrupt? It'll probably Draco from strutting around like a peacock."

The other three snorted in response, causing the awkward atmosphere to disperse.

Susan said "That'll be the day."

A smile on his face, Justin asked "You sure he wouldn't strut even if he doesn't have the money?"

"Well, without the money, he'd start strutting like a ferret."

Susan, Ernie and Justin stared at Hannah. Her humour was a bone she rarely exercised. A second later, the four of them broke into laughter.

* * *

"Anybody ever wonder how people could be stupid?"

"Every day, Daphne. Everyday."

Blaise just smirked at the two girls. "This just occurred to you now, Daphne?"

Daphne just shook her head, a smile on her face. "No. But I am continuously surprised by how stupid people are. Every time I think I have a grasp on wizarding Britain's idiocy, they set the bar even lower."

Theo and Tracey laughed at the words while Blaise's smirk widened.

The four of them were sitting on conjured furniture or occupied the bed in Theo's room under advanced privacy wards. Contrary to popular belief, Slytherins did not have rooms filled with luxury. The rooms had two beds, two study desks with chairs and a small bathroom. Any extra pieces had to be either conjured or brought in by the students.

Theo shared his room with a Fawley, a boy he barely spoke to. Both boys had taken to warding their belongings against intruders, since nobody in Slytherin trusted anyone to not ransack their rooms.

Smiling at her best friend, Tracey asked "Did you hear the rumours about Ares turning into a snake and attacking Malfoy and his friends?"

Theo smiled and Daphne rolled her eyes. "Sure. I think the fools forgot his animagus form was a lion."

"Well, he is the _Boy-Who-Lived_. Vanquisher of the Dark Lord and all that." Blaise was smirking in amusement. Britain never failed to amuse him and his family. His mother's regular comments about the gullibility of the common folk had not endeared the country to him.

"Speaking of Ares," Tracey cut in before Blaise could start a fight with Daphne. They were friends but, if she were honest, the two of them loved to rile each other up far too much. "What will happen to the Potter and Black Alliances?"

Tilting her head, Daphne straightened herself on the chair and looked at Tracey. "There are quite a few problems on that front. Ares _and_ Sirius are unknown entities to the current political atmosphere. No telling how most of them, besides my father and a few others, would react."

Seated on the bed, Tracey turned to Theo. "What about your father, Theo? You did tell us he was looking for options."

Daphne looked nonplussed at the news while Blaise narrowed his eyes at the news.

Theo shrugged. "He will do what's best for our House. That's what he's always done."

Blaise's eyes narrowed further.

Tracey grumbled at the non-answer that was her boyfriend's usual response. Trying to kick his shin and missing due to the leg moving out of range, she whined "Theo! I would like an actual answer. Something that is more definite than a 'maybe'."

Theo looked at his girlfriend like a particularly interesting specimen of low intelligence, causing her gaze to narrow dangerously. Smirking at the look on her face, he said "Like I said, my father wo-"

"Argh!" Tracey cut off his words. Turning to her best friend, she asked "Daphne, please explain it to me. I don't think I can look at my prat of a boyfriend without killing him."

Daphne smiled at the words, sharing an amused look with Blaise. Fully turning to face her friend, expression serious, she explained "Edward Nott is a progressive traditionalist. He has always been a member of the Traditionalists, or the Dark Faction as people tend to call it. While not a fan of muggles or muggleborns, he is not against them either." Face darkening, she said "Other than being a Death Eater," Theo flinched, but stayed quiet. "which was a foolish choice, he is surprisingly reasonable. With the right incentive, he could probably provide tentative support."

Keeping one eye on the boy beside him, Blaise asked "You think he'll actually be amenable to such move?"

Daphne shrugged. "Perhaps."

Theo shrugged off the concern in Tracey's eyes and said "Besides my father, there are quite a few unmarked without the means to leave."

"Means?" asked Tracey. She knew the topic of Death Eaters was a sore spot for her boyfriend.

Theo had once confided in her about a very particular memory from his second year. During his Christmas at Nott Manor, his father had told him about his experience as a member of Voldemort's cronies. Theo told her that he could never forget the look on his father's face. It combined grief, anger, bitter contempt, pain and something that he could not identify to this day. The death of his friends, many of them purebloods and half-bloods, in the initial salvos of the war had removed any blind spots he had about the true nature of Voldemort. But he had already been marked like cattle, and he could never turn back from the path he had set himself on. Theo could still remember the silent tears on Edward Nott's face as he spoke of his sorrow.

It was the day when Theo had decided that when all was said and done, and the lines were drawn, he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, where his loyalties would lie. He had told her that his father must have known what the talk would do, that he must have known Theo would pick his side. He could not conclusively say, but since that day, there was what he would a look of pride on his father's face.

"They don't' have anywhere else to go." said Blaise.

At Tracey's confused look, Daphne clarified his answer. "While the Wizengamot is divided the general population into three factions, it's a lot more complicated than that. Remember the talk I gave you about the Alliances?" A nod from her friend and she continued "The lines in the Wizengamot are divided along _both_ Alliances and beliefs. Right now, the Dark Faction, or the Traditionalists, hold the most power in the Ministry. The Light faction, or Dumbledore's faction, hold the greater political power owing to the Most Ancient House of Longbottom and allied vassals amongst its ranks. The Neutral faction, led by my father, is the deciding factor, for now."

Blaise and Theo caught her phrase, but Tracey appeared to mull it over. Looking at her friend, she said "That still doesn't explain anything to me."

"Be patient." Daphne replied. "What I just told you is the overview. Now, the factions themselves are made up of many alliances, some with members across several factions. This means that a 'Light' member-" she rolled her eyes at the term. "-could have an ally in the Dark or Neutral faction. Right now, the biggest issue for many of the members who want to change sides is the lack of a choice. There are currently two leaders in Britain: Dumbledore and Voldemort. Two men of incredible power, skill and charm; Men with a legion of loyal followers and assets. People capable of changing the fate of the country with but a word."

"But, they are not optimal choices. Dumbledore is a pacifist with an obsession with maintaining the status quo. His obsession with declaring any revolutionary or powerful magics as dark has alienated most pureblood supporters and his near obsession with the Dark Lord has caused many death eaters to be thrown into jail, without even a courtesy trial. Reason why people don't notice his actions for what they truly are is because the man is a master of misdirection and subtle manipulation."

"Voldemort is a revolutionary with grand and _delusional_ ideas of ruling the world. He may have started his campaign with the support of purebloods, but he is a genocidal mass-murderer with serious psychological issues and an obsession with death. Even his name is a French word that means 'flight from death'. An individual who takes his principles to the extreme, not afraid of killing anyone who disagrees with him, but still possessing the power and charisma to bring others under his command, no matter the rumours that surround him."

"Both are men who take their principles to the extreme and are unforgiving of anyone who does not toe their line. Considering _his_ return and Dumbledore leading his forces again, the reluctant participants, the people who want to keep their families safe, do not have anyone to rally behind. There is no one in the current atmosphere capable, or willing, to challenge these two madmen. Even my father knows nobody can stay neutral in this atmosphere. Sooner or later, everyone will be a part of this stupid war."

Tracey asked, rather shrewdly, "Does that Ares will be the rallying point for them?"

Daphne scoffed while Blaise suppressed his snort. "No. He'd much rather spend his days experimenting than even bother showing up in a political arena."

Theo pre-empted his girlfriend question. "Sirius might not be a rallying point either. We don't know his intentions to give an assessment either. He may have fought Voldemort before, but remember he left Britain for fourteen years and only came back because of a stupid law that the white whiskered wanker passed."

Tracey wanted to tear her hair out. Politics were not her cup of tea, adding all these complicated factors and not a single straight answer and the lack of an actual _good person_ was driving her nuts. "At least, the Hogwarts rumour mill is a good laugh. Theo, if I ever express an interest to become a politician, do remember to get me checked for spells and potions." And fell back on the bed.

Daphne's lips twitched in amusement, despite the atmosphere. Trust her friend to always lighten the situation with humour. Turning to Blaise, she asked "Any sniffers?"

"Just Granger and her usual questions." Blaise replied. "Although her questions are a bit more precocious this time around. Nothing I couldn't handle."

Daphne nodded. "What about the attack?"

Blaise and Theo shared a brief look that Daphne did not miss. Neither did Tracey.

"What attack, Daphne?"

Daphne cocked her eyebrow. "The one which you, Blaise, stopped before the plan even got off the ground. Don't look so surprised. I do have my sources."

Tracey seemed ready to burst her bubble when Theo sighed and Blaise scowled. "Who's your source?"

Daphne smirked. "You guys."

At their confused look, she explained her answer. "Ever since I told you about Ares and his arrival here, the two of you were coiled like a snake. You did not relax over the next few days either. Ares's display in the common room only seemed to increase that tension. It wasn't until afternoon on the day of Ares's trial when the two of you returned to the common room. You guys were far more relaxed than I'd seen you since we arrived at school."

"Thought about it. School politics would not bother Blaise and Theo doesn't care about the current crop of idiots masquerading as strategists. You don't care about the gossip running rampant and you guys did not receive any pressing news from your families. It narrowed my options down to a few things. Then, I remembered the small drop of blood on your inner sleeve, Blaise. Now, who was the moron?"

Theo laughed, a full throated laugh proclaiming his amusement to the entire room. Tracey thought they were quite lucky to have muffling charms or the entire common room would have heard him.

Blaise scowled at the answer. _Stupid!_ He knew better than to leave clues. No. He thought he knew better. He would make sure such a mistake would not be repeated. Still scowling, which Daphne knew was directed towards himself, he said "It was a she. Clarissa Shaw."

Daphne's smile lacked any mirth. "Well, I have to deliver a personal message to her. Soon."

Tracey suppressed a shiver at the phrase. _I must have been insane when I became friends with these… people._

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE** : **A new addition to our roster.**

 **ARCTURUS ORION BLACK – RUSSELL CROWE**

 **All work and no play makes Ares a dull boy. Don't worry about action. Coming soon.**

 **Once again, thanks to all those who have fav, followed, read and reviewed. We thank you for the encouragement and we shall continue to write and bring his story to an explosive finish.**

 **Now, both my fellow author, AP, and I have a special answer to one specific reviewer.**

 **xNaruHina: One, Perenelle is THE pre-eminent ward master in the world and is offering to teach you for a future favour, with a magical oath that prevents from harming you in any way, shape or form. i.e., magically, physically, emotionally or psychologically. Read the line again. It's in the chapter.**

 **The Slytherin line is known for Mind Magics. It does not mean that every person has the same affinity. That would be like the child of the Amazon CEO and his/her children and their children being experts at commerce, no matter what. Think!**

 **And to your last comment, in case you missed that paragraph, she found everything she could and gave him the complete findings and a way to get rid of it that does not involve killing him.** _ **How does that make her Dumbledore?**_

 **Argh! Find yourself a pair of new eyes because what you have are** _ **defective**_ **.**

 **Rant over.**

 **Our Daily Show with Rebecca.**

 **Rebecca: I am here in the British Ministry of Magic with Lord You-Know-Who, the leader of the British and French magical countries. My Lord, people all over the world are wondering how you captured two countries without any casualties and even beat your own prophecy.**

 **Voldemort: Psshh. It was easy once I figured out there were ways to win a war without violence.**

 **Rebecca: That is astounding, My Lord. Most people label you as a mass-murderer.**

 **Voldemort: I was not a mass-murderer. I was simply killing a few sheep. Besides, I have found a new and much better path.**

 **Rebecca: If I may be so bold, could you inform me of this method, My Lord?**

 **Voldemort: Certainly. I wish for my fellow dark lords and ladies to rely on this as well. *Leans Forward* It's…**

 **Rebecca: My Lord *Leans forward* It is...?**

 **Voldemort: *Stage whisper* LOVE POTIONS!**

 **Rebecca: Lo-Lov-Love potions?**

 **Voldemort: *Grins maniacally* Yes. I simply instructed my death eaters to make a long-term love potion and key it to themselves. Then I instructed them to lace all the sources of food the British and French ministries used.**

 **Rebecca: …. It actually worked!?**

 **Voldemort: Of course. People who consumed it immediately began working for my side. Within a month, I had both the countries under my grip. The chosen one and his friends, including Dumbledore and the rest of Hogwarts students, now regularly fight over bedroom rights to Ginny Weasley.**

 **Rebecca: … Your followers?**

 **Voldemort: *Grin widens* Once I told them to add a lust potion into the mix… Well…, let's just say I never have to be worried about being overthrown. Ever.**

 **Rebecca: *Looking around in fear* May I know how this idea came about?**

 **Voldemort: My lover inspired it. They relied on it quite extensively and taught me the most effective use of it.**

 **Rebecca: *Gulping nervously* Who is this wonderful partner?**

 ***A red-haired female falls into Voldemort's lap***

 **Red-haired woman: Volly, you were late for our date.**

 **Voldemort: I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you, Molly-wobbles!**

 ***Rebecce faints***

 **Voldemort: Oh dear! Very well! Bella, you have a new harem partner here. Use he- I mean, treat her well.**

 **Bellatrix: *Mad and lustful giggling***


	14. Slytherin smithereens

**September 22,1995.**

"For the last time, Ares, _stop freaking me out!_ Continue this behaviour and I will send _you_ there." Sirius yelled, completely annoyed at the antics of his son. He was going to be driven mad before the session even started.

After spending the previous weekend in the DMLE holding cells and pranking the Lucius Malfoy and Fudge, Sirius was happy to see his son return home, and was both thrilled and sullen at seeing Ares bond with his grandfather's portrait. The teenager and portrait had spent the entire day talking to each other, leaving Sirius feeling a bit neglected. The next day, his son left the Black Manor, leaving a message that he would be at _Manoir_ Flamel for a day or two.

Although slightly disappointed at his son not delaying the visit for another day or two, Sirius decided that he may as well get some work done in the meantime, allowing him to spend the next few days with his son. The evening on the day he left, the _devilspawn_ returned home, looking quite ready to keel over right where he stood. An interrogation of his son and a Floo call to Lady Flamel revealed that it was _severe magical_ exhaustion, which he did not fully believe.

People seemed to forget that despite his more mature personality of the past decade, he was quite the prankster during his schooling and the days he spent as an auror only served to further develop his skills. He had escaped detentions, suspensions and sacking several times mainly due to his uncanny ability to lie. Besides, the traits cherished by House Gryffindor, bravery and honour, did not particularly lend themselves to hiding a prank, or a crime. He knew that Ares hid much of what he learnt from Madame Flamel; Sirius was not an idiot. He did understand, _much later,_ that Flamel's open-ended offer at the end of their meeting gave her carte blanche to teach his son anything, and everything she knew. And Ares would sooner kiss Voldemort than refuse an offer to learn more magic, a thought which made Sirius cringe in horror.

Evasive answers from both student and teacher did nothing to calm him down, especially when his son looked like nothing short of a visit to the healers of Gringotts would help. But Lady Flamel had assured him that his son would be fine by the end of the week, and Sirius had never known her to mislead him in matters of his son's health. While he had given up on his attempt at hospitalising his son, his paternal instincts aside, a vindictive part of him had been rather overjoyed that he would, _finally_ , have an entire week of reprieve from his son's insane experiments. An event that he needed to cherish, because it might be the one and only time his son would be still. Most days, he wondered if his son's antics were his penance for all the pranks, both juvenile and harmful, carried out by him and his friends.

At least, Sirius knew what the reactions of his friends would be. James would be laughing his ass off, since he was not the one suffering from the pranks of a hyperactive, too-intelligent-for-his-own-good son with a far-too-high aptitude for magic. Lily would be both simultaneously proud and horrified; proud at her son achieving things thought to be impossible and horrified at the boy's attempts surpassing that of both his father and godfather.

Sirius had spent that entire week tip-toeing around the manor, slightly afraid that his son might have already started another experiment. But, to his disbelief, the boy had not once complained about being unable to use magic, _for the entire week_. It was quite surprising to Sirius, especially since James and him would have gone insane before the week ended.

 _Although, it did not really matter in the end._ Sirius thought with a sigh. Ares and Arcturus got along like a house on fire, Sirius often playing chaperone to the portrait since Ares could not stay still in one place for long.

During that week of _magical exhaustion_ \- which Sirius suspected was not the entire truth, especially since his son had more muscle definition in his upper arms, which did not happen in a few hours or even a week or two - Ares had not endeavoured to even try to practice magic, except for the most basic of household charms. The boy had shut himself in the library for the better part of the week, usually reading some book not appropriate for his age or talking to his grandfather _._ The duo of grandson and grandfather spent their time talking about topics ranging from the family history to politics, the foundations of spells to the darkest of arts. To Sirius's misfortune, Arcturus Black, despite his life spent in the pursuit of political power, was a _connoisseur_ of the magical arts and was well versed in the Black Family Magic.

Nearly two weeks since Ares had fully recovered, the day of the Wizengamot session of September twenty second had arrived. Sirius was _tad_ nervous about facing those vultures and death eaters, not to mention Dumbledore and his cronies. He was worried about assassination attempts on the life of Ares and him; and they would occur after the announcements in the session today. His son's impatience was not helping.

"Get ready, Pad. We need to be there by eleven-thirty." Ares pestered, ignoring his father's words.

Sirius groaned. Ares really needed to learn patience. "Haven't you ever heard of being _fashionably late?_ "

"This is a Wizengamot session, boy; not a Christmas Ball." The portrait of Arcturus Black commented quite sternly.

"Might as well be." Sirius muttered under his breath. Raising his voice, he said, "I hope both of you _kids know_ what you are doing." Lips twisting into a frown, he continued, "Are you sure you want to do this? The consequences might no-"

Ares smiled and held his father's shoulder, interrupting his words. Pure confidence coating his words, he said, "I'm sure, Pad. Both you and me have discussed this several times already. Not to mention grandfather agreed this was the right thing to do, especially since the public is on our side for now. We delay now and we will lose. A lot more than we think."

"My grandson is correct on this matter, Sirius." said the portrait of Arcturus. "You understand very well that the British wizards and witches thrive on propaganda written in the Daily Prophet or broadcast on the WWN. Hell, if the paper or radio said the sky was blue because the Ministry made it so, I'm sure they would believe it." His words held the distinct edge of a sneer. "Follow the plan, and let the public and paper do the rest, not to mention the effects on Voldemort's supporters and sympathisers. This will effectively pull the carpet from under their feet."

Rubbing his forehead, Sirius decided that he would never win agreement against these two. Looking at Ares, since Arcturus would not listen to him, he asked, "What about McGonagall? The meeting was _only_ two days ago and-"

" _Aunt Minerva_ " corrected Ares, a smirk on his face. "knows exactly what she is doing. She understands the consequences of her actions and is ready to take on all corners for her beliefs. Neither you, nor I, can change that."

* * *

 _ **Four days ago…**_

" _Why do you think Professor McGonagall would send me a private letter?" Ares asked. He extended the unopened envelope addressed to him towards his father._

" _No idea. But the letter won't read itself, unless she sent you a howler." Sirius replied. "That is not a howler. Just open the letter, see for yourself." Despite his casual tone, and answer, he was quite curious about the letter, especially since Professor McGonagall had addressed the letter. The old lady was the godmother of James and was his Head of House. It might just be an attempt at connecting with the child of her godson. Besides, if the wards around the manor did not destroy the envelope, both the envelope and its contents were harmless. At the very least, there were no magical substances or curses on it._

 _Shaking his head at his father's transparent attempt at hiding his curiosity, Ares tore open the envelope and peered inside. A small piece of parchment was all it contained. Pulling out the parchment and placing the envelope on the table beside him, he read it aloud._

 _ **Ares,**_

 _ **As happy as I was hearing at the outcome of the trial, and your deft touch at extricating yourself from it, I am ashamed at being unable to provide you with any help. As you might remember, your deceased father, James, was my godson and I intend to uphold the promise I made to Dorea all those years ago.**_

 _ **I have certain matters to discuss with you, before the Wizengamot session of September twenty second. Please reply as soon as possible with a meeting place of your choice.**_

 _ **Minerva McGonagall**_

" _A meeting place? Before the Wizengamot? What is she up to?" Sirius voiced his thoughts aloud. The letter did not sound like his Transfiguration professor at all._

" _What do you mean?" Ares questioned. While the letter from his professor was surprising, he was not expecting her to_ not _have an agenda._

 _Sirius glanced at the open letter, and looked his son in the eyes. Speaking slowly, he said, "Ares, Professor McGonagall is one of the very few people who holds a seat in the Wizengamot and has no interest in politics. To date, she has never been a part of any political alliance nor has she appeared in the chamber either."_

" _I… didn't know that." Ares said, quite confused about the matter. "What about her family? A husband, maybe a son or daughter?"_

 _Sirius frowned. "I don't think I ever heard anything about her family. What I do know is that Hogwarts has been her home since the Great War of Europe."_

 _Ares looked at him with surprise. How can Pad not know anything about one of his favourite teachers? Resolving to learn more about the professor, he asked "What are_ we _going to do about this?"_

 _Sirius walked up to Ares and took the letter from his hands. Passing a glance over it, he said "Well, she did say she would appear at a meeting place of your choice. I think Gringotts would be a good venue."_

" _Good idea." Ares agreed. "A neutral location and the goblins would take care of any imposters and prevent attacks." Thinking it over, he said, "Reserve a meeting room at the London branch… for the day after tomorrow at eleven in the morning."_

" _Sure." Sirius answered. At the very least, he could find out his professor's, if it was her, agenda._

* * *

 _ **Two days ago…**_

 _Sirius and Ares appeared in a flash of blue in the customer portkey chamber of the London branch of Gringotts. The goblins, as most Noble Houses and older, highly valued customers knew, possessed private portkey and apparition chambers that could be utilised for a fee, a service offered only to highly valued clients. Besides the travel chambers and healing, the goblins offered several services; investments, land acquisition, loans, warding and curse-breakers to name a few. As such, a request for a meeting chamber was well within their purview and quite easily offered, considering the number of requests they received for such. The same request from Lord Black was accepted within two hours and private portkey provided for him and his son; Turns out, when you use goblin services quite regularly to conduct House business, you tend to be far more valued than other reasons. Sirius and Ares's respect for the establishment and their acknowledgement of the Goblin Nation went a long way._

 _Once they signed in with the chamber manager, the father and son duo were escorted by two armed and armoured guards to their reserved meeting chamber. Passing through several corridors, the four-member party arrived at their destination, Meeting Room 11, the words printed in solid gold on the pitch black metal door._

 _The armed guards took positions beside the door, facing the corridor. Nodding towards each other, Sirius opened the door, allowed Ares to enter and then stepped in himself, locking the door behind him._

 _The room was made of pure white marble on all sides, with a slight shimmer to the surface; Sirius knew that the shimmer was the powerful anti-privacy and anti-scry wards embedded in the marble, a feat considered near impossible since marble was not a good conductor of magic. In the middle of the room was a rectangular brown table made of redwood. Two chairs occupied one side and s single chair occupied a place opposite the two chairs._

 _Sirius and Ares noted that Minerva McGonagall occupied the single chair. What surprised both was the rich cut of her ruby-red robes and the parchments placed on the table to her left._

" _Professor." Father and son greeted their transfiguration professor simultaneously._

" _Mister Black. Ares." Minerva returned their greeting, an uneasy smile twisting her lips._

 _Sirius felt the rather irrepressible urge to answer her with his 'Call me Sirius' line, but he forced himself to simply smile back. Seeing his old teacher after so many years made him feel rather melancholic._

" _How are you, professor?" Sirius asked, a light tremor in his voice._

" _I'm good, Mister Black." Minerva replied, a slight feeling of tension dissipating from the warm greeting she received._

" _Call me Sirius." Sirius replied, no longer able to deal with his teacher calling him 'Mister Black'._

 _Minerva laughed, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "it is good to see you, Sirius."_

 _Sirius nodded. Feeling Ares pull his sleeve discreetly, he followed his son and occupied the chairs opposite Minerva._

 _Once seated, the three of them remained quiet, waiting one for one of them to break the silence that had intruded._

" _You said you wanted to talk about something, professor." Ares asked softly, knowing Pad was a bit overwhelmed right now._

 _Minerva gave a slight nod "Are you…" She cleared her throat, and continued, "Are you going to attend the Wizengamot session?"_

 _Ares nodded in reply._

" _I thought so." Minerva muttered. "I- there is- well, I have decided to claim my inheritance."_

 _Sirius's eyes nearly popped out._ Minerva McGonagall had decided to claim her inheritance at the Wizengamot?

 _Deliberating ignoring her former student's reaction, Minerva continued speaking. "As you might know, House McGonagall is an Ancient House, and I am the last to my line."_

 _Sirius pondered his choice of words, not wanting to awake any uncomfortable memories. Trying for a slightly diplomatic question, he asked "What about your next of kin?"_

 _Minerva chuckled mirthlessly. "I have a son, if that is what you are asking for. My son, Jason, and I have not talked to each other for decades. And he has never quite… demonstrated any interest in politics."_

 _Sirius and Ares silently agreed to not follow this line of questioning any further_

" _Okay." Ares voiced, unsure as to where the conversation was leading. "What do you need from me?"_

 _Minerva smiled. "I wish to name you as my successor-" Ares and Sirius gave a start. "-for my Ancient House of McGonagall."_

" _Me?" Ares asked in disbelief. Whatever he had been expecting to hear during this meeting, this was not one of them._

 _Minerva's smile widened at the startled reaction of the two boys. "My will stipulates that the contents of the House vault and my personal vault will pass to my son. Considering my son will not return to Britain and has no interest in politics, I hoped that the addition of a Noble and Ancient House in your alliance would strengthen your political standing." She paused for a moment. Steeling herself against the grief of her memories, she continued. "I was unable to save my godson and the woman I considered to be a daughter. I was powerless to stop Dumbledore from his attempts at kidnapping you from your father. I am useless when the aurors came to arrest you. I have made plenty of mistakes over the course of life but I will be damned before I do not provide you with all the help I possibly can."_

 _Ares was quite shocked at the turn of events. From the words, it was apparent that the elder woman was unforgiving toward herself and carried guilt for her actions, or inactions in this case. That was quite clear from their conversation after his first Transfiguration class. From Pad's description of her, she was supposed to be a passive personality. However, it seems that his arrest had finally spurred her to take action._

 _While Ares would love to accept her offer, simply for the extra capital it provided, he knew the minute she stepped into politics, she would paint a far bigger target on her back, both metaphorically and literally. But the steel in her eyes, the absolute conviction visible in those irises stopped him from trying to dissuade her._

" _Ares you… sure, Professor?" he asked finally._

 _Minerva nodded. She had decided on her path and no one, not even Albus Dumbledore would sway her. She was a Gryffindor and it was time to utilise the courage she had, no matter how late it was._

 _Ares looked at his father for confirmation. Seeing his father nod, albeit reluctantly, he turned to Minerva and said "Very well._ _What should we do now?"_

* * *

Sirius remembered the ritual of succession that had occurred immediately after and the discussions that followed said. All things considered, it had been a fruitful meeting.

Still, it was his former teacher, and she was going public with her support. Whatever target the death eaters painted on her back was no going to grow bigger. "Alright. But I'm still going to make an emergency portkey for Minerva. She will be safe on one of our estates. However, we still need to consider Dumbledore. He won't just let her go."

Ares raised an eyebrow. His father was not suggesting what he thought he was, did he? "Do you _honestly_ think that _Albus Dumbledore_ would try to force her to change her motives? Or put her under a compulsion or loyalty potion?"

"You can never trust that man," Sirius sneered. "I blame him almost as much as I-"

"Yes, I _know."_ Ares interrupted his father with a sigh. He did understand where his father was coming from. With all the attempts at kidnapping him and trying to get Pad arrested and turning Remus against Sirius, no wonder his father was so hostile towards the old wizard.

Over the years, Ares had spent quite some time studying the history of Albus Dumbledore. While his childhood was mostly obscured by time and a lack of records, his time as a professor, his participation and his political moves were well-documented. From his analysis, Ares realised Dumbledore was an extreme conservative; values contrary to the words he spouted during speeches. His grandfather, Arcturus Black, had a saying: _A conservative was someone who makes no changes and asks his grandmother when in doubt._ Ares simply disliked the man for his subtle attempts to manipulate everyone around him, especially when said attempts were directed towards him and those he cared for.

Checking his attire and equipment once again, and ensuring his wands were in their respective holsters, Ares wiped imaginary lint off his new, prim Wizengamot robes. The plum robes had a silver 'W' on the left breast, and did not possess any of his House banners. Looking at his father who was dressed similarly, his shoulder-length hair and steel-grey eyes giving off quite a formidable appearance, he nodded.

"Ready?" he asked.

* * *

The Wizengamot was comprised of a total of ninety-two seats, with eight seats representing Noble and Most Ancient Houses, twenty-eight seats representing the Noble and Ancient Houses, thirty-three seats for the Noble Houses, thirteen seats for the Ministry, including the Minister, ten seats for Order of Merlin recipients.

The distribution of votes was fixed and immutable for each member of the Wizengamot. Each Noble and Most Ancient Houses enjoyed five votes; the Noble and Ancient Houses, three; Noble Houses possessed two votes; Ministry seats and Order of Merlin recipients exercised a single vote. The three exceptions to voting were the Chief Warlock, the Head of the auspicious body, the Chief Clerk, responsible for calling in the Order of Business for every session, and the Court Scribe responsible for recording the minutes of every session.

Over the past millennia, several Noble and Most Ancient Houses were declared to be either dormant or extinct. And the last wizarding war of Britain had brought down the membership of the Wizengamot to a mere fifty-six. At present, with the Black seat under dormant status, the House of Longbottom was the only Noble and Most Ancient House that was considered both extant and active.

Since it was illegal for members of the press to hound the Wizengamot members before the start of the session, the Ministry Atrium was rather empty, all members of the press and the Wizengamot occupying rooms adjacent to the ancient chamber.

Sirius and Ares smoothly walked out of a Ministry Floo, cleaning off any dust with a wave of their wands. The _notice-me-not_ charm worked its magic as father and son swept past the check-in clerk, a couple of loitering reporters and into one of the recess rooms reserved for members of the Wizengamot.

Moving past them without notice, the duo entered the Wizengamot chamber, passing a glance around the chamber. While Ares smiled upon remembering the last time he was here, Sirius grimaced at the same memory.

Many members were seated in their places while several milled about at the centre. A quick glance around let Ares spot several people he knew. The first was Jonathan Greengrass, the Lord Greengrass and a family friend. He briefly noticed Daphne, who seemed oblivious to the presence of him and his father, busy interacting with Theodore Nott.

Since they had removed their _notice-me-not_ charms upon entering the chamber, the blue-eyed boy noticed Ares and his father and subtly nodded, a gesture that did not miss Daphne's sharp gaze. Spinning around, her eyes widened in surprise as she spotted Ares. Her eyes narrowed and fists clenched before she realised where she was. Sending a warning glance towards her boyfriend, she composed herself before someone noticed her slip.

Spotting his friend, Jonathan waved Sirius and Ares towards him.

"Any troubles reaching here?" Jonathan asked once the two Black family members approached him.

Sirius replied, "Not at all. It was surprising easily to get here without getting mobbed."

A smirk on his face, Jonathan said, "Oh, I am sure it was just magic."

Sirius smirked at his friend while Ares studiously ignored the burning eyes of his girlfriend. Spotting Minerva and Madam Longbottom nearby, he excused himself and, lip twitching in amusement, dragged his son towards the two elder women, and away from girl ready to kill him with her bare hands.

As they neared the two ladies, Augusts spotted them and spoke to Minerva, who turned towards them.

Standing near them, Sirius wished the two matriarchs. "Lady Longbottom. Professor."

"Mister Black." Augusta Longbottom returned in a slightly imperious tone. Minerva just nodded in acknowledgement.

"It is time." The Longbottom matriarch replied and turned towards her friend. "I must go and take my place." She passed a final glance towards the two men, excused herself and walked to her seat.

* * *

A few minutes into the discussion between Sirius, Ares and Minerva, other members began noticing the presence of the boy who was recently on trial, and, more importantly, his adoptive father who had been missing for the past fourteen years. However, none dared approach him. Several members noted Lucius silently gnashing his teeth at them. Sirius and Ares simply ignored it all.

Another few minutes later, the chamber was filled, with all members seated in their respective places, including the Minister and the respective Department Heads. Ares and Minerva stood in the ante chamber awaiting their call. A silence fell over the Chamber as the Chief Warlock Tiberius Odgen entered it, swiftly followed by the Chief Clerk Albert Dullard and Court Scribe Percy Weasley. Odgen stood over his chair, as the Wizengamot members stood up in respect. He then cleared his throat and sat down, with the rest of the audience following him swiftly after. Dullard and Weasley occupied their respective seats next to the Chief Warlock.

Passing a glance towards the entirety of the Wizengamot, Odgen said, "Seal the doors. As Chief Warlock, I, Tiberius Odgen, call the session of September twenty second 1995 to order."

The doors of the Wizengamot closed with a great sound and the ambient magics of the chamber came into effect. The enchantment made sure that no wands could be drawn by the occupants of the chamber unless permission was given by the Chief Warlock. All the members shuddered slightly as the enchantment took hold.

The Chief Warlock then turned to the grey haired clerk and said, "Chief Clerk, call the Order of Business for the session."

Dullard stood up and cleared his throat. "The first order of business is alterations to the membership of the Wizengamot. I call in Lord Black to come up and take the oath."

Albus Dumbledore, seated amongst the other Noble Houses, looked towards the lowest tier as Sirius Black, wearing Wizengamot robes, walked towards the center of the chamber.

"I witness the calling of Sirius Orion Black to the seat of the House of Black." Odgen called out in a monotone once Sirius stood in the middle of the chamber.

Speaking with a loud and firm tone of voice, Sirius said, "I, Sirius Orion, Lord of House of Black, swear to act with honour and justice and uphold the prestige of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, by blood, by magic and by oath. As I have sworn, so mote it be."

A wave of magic pervaded the chamber as the seat of the House of Black glowed brightly with blinding white, signalling that the Most Ancient House was once again active.

"I confirm your oath to be valid, and recognised by magic, Lord Black. Please take your seat." Odgen ordered.

"I request your permission to declare certain notifications on behalf of the House of Black, Chief Warlock." Sirius asked in a formal tone.

"Proceed."

Ignoring the whispers around him, the marauder said, "My first notification: Ares James Black is the Heir Apparent of the House of Black, by blood, by magic and by oath."

None of them made any moves since they were all embarrassed by allowing the previous sham of a trial. None would contest the claim.

Sirius cleared his throat. "My son, Ares James Black, formerly Harry James Potter, son of James and Lily Potter, has taken up the Headship of the House of Potter. As is stated in the Last Will and Testament of the late James Potter, I, Sirius Orion Black, accept the role of the Regent of the House of Potter."

The Potter seat glowed bright gold in acknowledgement.

"I confirm your oath as the Potter regent to be valid and recognised by magic, Lord Black." Odgen declared.

Sirius smirked. "As the Lord Black, I declare an alliance of mutual aid and support between the Houses of Potter and Black. As Regent of the House of Potter, I accept the alliance. The Houses of Potter and Black now stand together in alliance. May our Houses always stand together, in peace and in war." Twin flashes of magic spread from his body.

Odgen said, "Duly recognized."

Sirius glanced momentarily at Jonathan and said, "As Lord Black, I proclaim that the House of Black is in an alliance of mutual aid and support with the House of Greengrass."

Jonathan Greengrass stood up from his seat. "As Lord Greengrass, I confirm the proclamation. The House of Greengrass stands together with House Black."

"Acknowledged." Odgen intoned.

Sirius took a deep breath. "My last notification as Lord Black. As the Lord of Black and the Regent of House Potter, I declare Ares James Black as my proxy."

"I object." Dumbledore interrupted loudly and stood up.

"Seconded." Amos Diggory, Head of the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical creatures, stood as well.

The Chief Warlock turned towards Dumbledore and asked, "Please state your objections for the record."

Dumbledore stood up. "Ares James Black is an underage minor and is-"

"The age restriction prevents anyone below the age of thirteen from taking on the role of proxy, Chief Warlock." Jonathan Greengrass interrupted the old man before he made his arguments sound too convincing. "Ares Black is fifteen and well above the requirement."

"Objection overruled." The Chief Warlock asserted and turned towards Sirius. "Please proceed."

Dumbledore, Diggory and Jonathan took their seats, the former two quite reluctantly.

"That is all, Chief Warlock." Bowing to Odgen, Sirius walked towards his seat, passing a discrete glare towards Dumbledore, who blithely ignored him.

Odgen gestured to Dullard who looked at the Order of Business and said, "I call in Lady McGonagall to come in and take the oath."

Every eye turned towards the antechamber as Minerva McGonagall, the Transfiguration professor of Hogwarts, walked in with a steady gait and stood in front of the Chief Warlock, ignoring Dumbledore who was staring at her in surprise.

At Odgen's gesture to move ahead, Minerva said, "I, Minerva Emily McGonagall, Head of House McGonagall, swear to uphold my House with fairness and equality as the Lady of the Noble and Ancient House of McGonagall."

"I object." Albus Dumbledore called out once again and quickly stood up. "The House of McGonagall is Ancient, true, but it is not _Noble_ since it has been dormant for over three centuries." He glared at the woman standing in front of Odgen and avoiding his eyes.

"Sustained. Does the House of McGonagall have an _introducer?"_ The Chief Warlock asked.

Whispers broke out in the chamber. It had been ages since an Ancient House awoke from dormant status. Such a House required another Ancient House of higher to introduce them to the Wizengamot in order to regain their seat.

"The Noble and Most Ancient House of Longbottom stands for the House of McGonagall." Augusta Longbottom replied imperiously, standing from her seat.

"Seconded." Sirius Black stood up a second later.

Everyone looked in awe. Two _Most Ancient Houses_ had stood up for acknowledging the introduction of a fellow Ancient House.

The Chief Warlock nodded and said. "Please continue your oath, Lady McGonagall."

"So have I sworn, so mote it be." Minerva finished briefly, as the seat of House McGonagall glowed a pale blue.

"I confirm your ascension as the new Lady of House McGonagall." said Odgen.

Minerva nodded. "I have some notices to declare, Chief Warlock." Once Odgen gave his permission, she began. "I, Minerva Emily McGonagall, Lady of House Ross-" A palpable wave of shock went through the members of the Wizengamot. "-swear to uphold the values of my House with fairness and Justice, as the Lady of the Noble and Ancient House House of Ross."

The seat of Ross glowed, as the Chief Warlock acknowledged it. The members went through various emotions as _two_ Ancient House became active in a single session. An event that was rare and nearly unheard of. Not to mention the person leading the two houses was someone who they had _never_ expected to see in the Wizengamot.

For the first time, Minerva smiled. "The House of McGonagall announces an alliance of mutual aid and support with the House of Ross."

Once again, no surprises there.

"The House of McGonagall announces an alliance of mutual aid and support _independently_ with the Houses of Potter and Longbottom."

That quietened all detractors before any objections could be raised. Knowingly or not, Minerva McGonagall had just declared an unofficial alliance between the Most Ancient Houses of Black and Longbottom.

Odgen said, "Duly recognized." It was a rather good political move, all things considered. An Alliance with two _Light_ Houses while offering an unofficial alliance with a _Dark_ House. For someone new to the political arena, he considered it be quite a wise move.

Minerva cleared her throat. "As Lady McGonagall, I declare the House of Urquart as a vassal."

Instantly, the House of McGonagall glowed brightly with a shade of magenta, as the magics of the Chamber recognized the announcement. Having a vassal simply meant an additional vote for the liege House.

"My final notification." Minerva continued, ignoring quite a few sputters from the members and glares from Dumbledore. "I declare Ares James Black as the Heir Apparent of House Ross and House McGonagall by oath. So I have sworn, so mote it be."

Sirius Black stood up once again and spoke clearly. "As Potter Regent, I verify the announcement to be true."

Chaos reigned the chamber at the words.

In a single move, Minerva McGonagall had given Ares James Black control of two Noble and Ancient Houses; that was seven votes along with the eight he currently possessed. The members realised that this would skew the voting towards the light bloc.

"Order!" The Chief Warlock banged his gavel and fired a sound charm. Once the members had settled – several glares directed at the unfazed woman standing in the middle – Odgen asked "Do you have any further notifications to declare, Lady McGonagall?"

Minerva shook her head.

Odgen said, "Very well. Please ascend to your seat, Lady McGonagall-Ross."

Dullard witnessed the new Lady McGonagall walk towards her seat on the second tier, as the two seats of Ross and McGonagall fused to become one. Once Minerva had taken her seat, he cleared his throat and called out loudly. "I call Lord Nott to make his declaration."

Every single person in the Dark Alliance stared as Edward Nott stood up and walked towards the centre of the chamber.

Standing on the platform at the centre and staring straight at the Chief Warlock, Edward declared, "I, Edward Tiberius Nott, declare that my son, Theodore Maximus Nott, has succeeded me as the Head of the Noble and Ancient House House of Nott."

Ignoring the confused glares and stares from several quarters, he continued his declaration. "However, the new Head of House Nott is not of the required age to claim the seat. Thus, I have been appointed as the Proxy of the House of Nott." The seat glowed a bright silver, proving that his claim held true.

"Duly acknowledged." Odgen replied. _This is turning out to be quite the fun session._

"Thank you." Edward nodded in acceptance and walked back into the tiers and occupied his seat.

"I must say, we are having a rather active Wizengamot this session. Two awakened Houses and a vassal house." Odgen commented genially, as he turned towards Dullard. He asked, "Are there further additions to our membership?"

Dullard looked back onto the file to check in. Without observing it in detail, he nodded his head. "We have one final addition, Chief Warlock. I call in the Lord-" His eyes bulged out, as he read, and then reread it. Rubbing his eyes to ensure he wasn't dreaming, he looked at the line again. Finally, in a rather faint voice, he intoned, "I call in Lord _Slytherin_ to take the oath."

The entirety of the Wizengamot was stunned into complete and utter silence.

* * *

Lucius feared he had nearly suffered from an aneurysm. The notices given by Sirius Black had already pushed him to the edge. He did not like the fact that Potter, Black and Greengrass were a single coalition, a rather powerful concentration of political standing. Then, _Minerva McGonagall_ of all people had thrown everything into disarray. First by raising two Ancient Houses from the dead, and then _literally gifting_ the Houses to _Ares Black. Fifteen votes?_ It was a political nightmare.

He had nearly been driven spare. Now, _Lord Slytherin_ was going to take up his seat. _Lord Slytherin!_ He quickly glanced around, hoping that his Lord was disappointed with him and had finally decided to take matters into his own hands.

Spotting Sirius Black walking down the steps towards the centre of the chamber, Lucius wondered what the man was thinking. Was he going to battle the Lord in the middle of the chamber?

As a few seconds passed by, and his Lord did not appear, and Sirius had neared the platform close to the Chief Warlock, realisation finally hit Lucius.

"Are you kiddin' me?" He roared out loudly.

* * *

Sirius Black stood in front of the Chief Warlock, ignoring the feeling of every single eye in the chamber focused on him. Inwardly, he was laughing his ass off at the reactions of the members who had, as soon as the announcement was made, began to wildly look around in fear of Voldemort appearing in the chamber. He had nearly laughed aloud at the expression on Lucius Malfoy's face when he realised why Sirius stood in the centre. Even Dumbledore was looking at him in open shock, something Sirius would privately savour in his pensieve later.

"Lord… Black?" The Chief Warlock questioned in hesitation. "You are the _Lord Slytherin_?"

Despite the glares of the entire chamber, especially Dumbledore, the Marauder could not help his smirk. "Shall I make the oath?"

Tiberius Odgen gulped slowly. "Proceed."

Sirius cleared his throat. "On behalf of _Lord Slytherin_ , I, Sirius Orion Black, swear to uphold the prestige and honour of the Most Ancient House of Slytherin as the _Regent_ of the House. As have I sworn, so mote it be."

The Wizengamot descended into chaos, with Albud Dumbledore _and_ Lucius Malfoy standing together in objection. Several members of the Dark faction, _formerly imperiused_ death eaters, stood up in support of Lucius Malfoy's objections. As members of the other factions stood up in favour of the objections, none of them noticed the flash of magic from the Slytherin seat.

"Order!" The Chief Warlock proclaimed repeatedly, banging his gavel.

It took a few minutes before order was restored to the chamber. Still, over half the Wizengamot glared at the Lord Black.

Turning to Sirius, the Chief Warlock asked, "Can the Regent of House Slytherin name the _current_ Lord of the House of Slytherin?"

"I can, but I do not see how that pertains to the subject." Sirius objected with slight amount of disdain in his voice.

"The House of Slytherin has been declared _extinct_ for nearly eight hundred years. The Wizengamot requires proof that the current Lord is _legitimate_." said Odgen.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "And what proof would satisfy the Wizengamot about the legitimacy of my claim?"

"The formal presence of the Lord during this session, who will have to take his oath and activate the seat in the first place." Odgen answered.

"The current _Heir_ has taken the _Headship_ of House Slytherin. However, he is not of age to take the Lord's oath." Sirius returned smoothly.

"In that case, we will need a demonstration of _Family magic_ from you." Odgen declared.

Sirius chuckled. "The Blacks are as old as any Most Ancient House, if not older. However, I do not have enough _Slytherin_ blood in me to call upon the Family Magic, despite my status as the Regent. With your permission, I would like to call the current _Head of House_ to demonstrate the legitimacy of my claim."

Odgen seemed conflicted for the moment. He looked at the Chief Clerk. "Are there any provisions for such a… situation?"

Dullard drew his wand, pointed it up and muttered an obscure incantation and a tome appeared on his desk. Flipping through the pages, he found what he was looking for. "There is a provision-" He began, "-that if the current Head is not of age, he may appoint his regent. Furthermore, the Chief Warlock may call on the Head to prove his claim through a demonstration of Family Magic."

Odgen nodded. "Very well. Proceed."

Dullard closed the tome and called out, "I call the current _Head_ of House Slytherin to prove his claim."

Every single pair of eyes, besides those in the know, spun towards the antechamber as Ares James Black walked through the doors, wearing the Wizengamot robes. The Potter and Black crests occupied his right breast and the Ross and McGonagall crests occupied the left.

Ignoring the entire gamut of looks he was receiving from the members, Ares walked towards the Chief Warlock, and stood beside Sirius.

Father and son glanced at each other, communicating their silent amusement.

Odgen stared at the boy in shock for quite a few seconds. Finally shaken out of his stupor by Dullard, he nodded in thanks towards the man and turned towards Ares. Raising his voice, he asked, "Heir Black, you are here to prove your claim to the House of Slytherin. Correct?"

"Yes, Chief Warlock." replied Ares, determination, and slight amusement, coating his words.

Nodding, Odgen said, "Please proceed with the oath, Heir Black."

Ares smirked. Drawing his white wand, glamoured to look like his black wand, he spoke loudly. "I, Ares James Black, successor to the Serpent Lords, claim the title of Lord Slytherin and the Basilisk as is my birthright. As I have sworn, so mote it be." A wave of bright green magic radiated from him.

The members stared in awe as the Slytherin seat glowed in acknowledgement of the Head and the _crest of Slytherin_ manifested over the robe of Ares Black.

Ignoring the stares, Ares took a deep breath and hissed in parseltongue, " _Familius Magicus Corporis_."

The Wizengamot watched in awe and fear as magic, the colour of the killing curse, coalesced above Ares. The energies slowly formed an ethereal basilisk which stared at the members in an all-devouring hunger, sending shivers down their spines. Hissing at the entire chamber, the basilisk slowly coiled itself around Ares and glared at them all.

* * *

Edward Nott stared at Ares Black with a mixture of emotions. Pride at his son for befriending a powerful lord. Surprise at the Potter Heir being the Lord Slytherin. Horror, at the feeling of the Slytheirn Family Magic. He pressed his right hand to his chest, remembering the abject fear he felt at the feeling of his magic recoiling _away_ from the Slytherin totem.

Edward's eyes passed over the ethereal basilisk, over the reactions of the other members, over his death eater allies and landed on his son, Theodore looking at him with a smirk. Now that he had seen the truth, he understood Theo's words during their last conversation.

 _ **Father, I hardly think that there is even a single legitimate political reason for following the Dark Lord.**_

 _But why would Theo hide such an important- Ah! Of course. Secrecy vows._

Edward looked at his son with pride. His son had given him a hint to the truth without triggering his oath. It had been his own fault for not realising the truth, especially when Ares Black had publicly revealed his status as a parselmouth.

The more Edward thought about it, the more it made sense. In the very first week, Ares Black had shown a _neutral_ stance, and had done so by publicly assaulting Heirs of both Light and Dark factions. He had demonstrated an open disregard and apathy for Dumbledore and the Dark Lord. As the pieces fell into place, Edward smiled at the boy- no, man who had just played them all for fools.

 _He wanted an audience._

The fact that the Malfoy debacle happened _at the same time_ was no coincidence. He _had to know_ that Lucius Malfoy would not leave things as they were; Lucius would react in anger and arrogance, without thinking of the consequences. Every member, besides Lucius and their allies, thought the trial was far too public and had tried to keep it under closed doors. But Lucius ensured Fudge made it as public as possible and, during the trial, Ares Black looked like he wanted it to be pu -

 _Damn._

The cunning man had used the opportunity to effectively neutralize any public backlash against his Parselmouth ability. Using the trial, he had effectively ended Malfoy's hold over the Dark Alliance and ensured the public was on his side.

Now, Ares Black had declared his _legitimate_ claim to the status of Lord Slytherin, a position that the Dark Lord could not achieve. He was now Heir to two Most Ancient Houses, and Head of three Ancien Houses, two of which were effectively _gifted_ to him by Minerva McGonagall.

 _Twenty fucking votes. Merlin! The trial... that was just previews... this is the opening night... and Ares Black is a full-tilt diva..._

"What do you think about my judgement, father?" Theo asked politely, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"I think…" Edward replied, staring at the now disappearing basilisk as the Chief Warlock acknowledged the claim and Ares moved towards the Slytherin seat. "-that you will make a very effective Lord Nott."

* * *

The stupefied audience watched as Ares James Black walked up towards the _Most Ancient_ row and took his seat as the _Head of Slytherin_. Dumbledore's eyes narrowed at the Boy-Who-Lived, wondering how he could have claimed the right. Lucius's expressions ranged from murderous to unadulterated fear. Member of the Dark and Light factions were gnashing their teeth at the duplicity.

Despite all their ire, anger and fear, the bottom line was not lost to a single member of the Wizengamot. With her declaration of alliance with _two_ Noble and Most Ancient Houses, she had effectively united _three_ Most Ancient Houses, including one considered lost to time, under a _single unified banner_. They could feel the shift of power that nearly threatened to destabilise their own political foundations.

The death eaters knew their Lord would not be _pleased_ about the events. A shudder went through several as they realised one of them would have to carry the news to their lord, and none of them envied the messenger. The more fanatic of the lot had begun hatching plans to kill the one who had just stolen their lord's birthright.

Amidst the looks of fear, rage, murder, envy and the sound of gnashing teeth, Ares sat on the seat of House Slytherin, nary a lip twitch on his perfect mask of a face. Turning around, Ares passed an amused glance towards his father, receiving a look of same in turn.

Turning back towards the Chief Warlock, Ares stood up and said, "The Noble and Most Ancient House of Slytherin would like to make an announcement, with your permission, Chief Warlock."

Seeing Odgen nod with quite some reluctance, Sirius had a faint smirk on his lips. It would not do for a Lord to laugh out loud, especially in the middle of the Wizengamot.

Receiving the Chief Warlock's permission, Ares stood up from his seat. Passing an amused glance to the other members, he walked towards the centre of the chamber.

Just as Ares reached the raised platform in front of the Chief Warlock, Yaxley stood up and yelled, "I object!" Seeing other members turn towards him, he said, "The _boy_ -" He sneered at the word, murder in his eyes. "-is not of age and has no ri-"

Sirius stood up and said, "While he may not be the _Lord Slytherin_ yet, he is the Head of the House. Wizengamot rules state that a Head of House who is not of age cannot vote under their personal discretion. The same rules do not forbid said Head of House from making announcements in the chamber, provided they receive permission from the Chief Warlock. The Head of House Slytherin has requested for, and received, permission from the Chief Warlock for the announcement he wishes to make. I suggest you keep your baseless objections to yourself, Lord Yaxley."

Odgen, noticing the storm brewing between the two Lords, banged his gavel, drawing their attention to him. Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he said, "Objection overruled, Lord Yaxley. Lord Black is correct. The Head of House Slytherin has received permission and he will be allowed to speak."

Growling under his breath, Yaxley took his seat, staring at the Chief Warlock and Ares with murder in his eyes.

At the same time, Sirius took his seat and the Chief Warlock turned to face Ares who had ignored the commotion with a look of calm about him.

At Odgen's gesture to proceed, Ares cleared his throat and said, loudly, "The House of Slytherin has _always_ been led by the Serpent Lords. Parseltongue, the ancient language of the serpents, is an integral part of our family magic. Possessing the ability does not make a person the Heir of House Slytherin, much less the Lord."

"Before my House vanished from the eyes of history, several families such as the Noble and Most Ancient House of Selwyn and the Noble House of Gaunt have either married into our House or members of the Slytherin lineage have married into the respective Houses. These Houses now gained a measure of our Family Magic. History has shown us that certain descendants of these Houses, including several seemingly unrelated person or persons have displayed the ability to speak the Serpent Tongue. Yet, none of them have claimed to be the _Heir of Slytherin_."

Ignoring the death glares he knew he would be receiving one part of the chamber, Ares continued to speak. "As Lord Slytherin, I wish to establish the fact that _having_ the ability to speak _Parseltongue_ does not necessarily mean that the witch or wizard in question is a descendant of House Slytherin. Hence, effective immediately, I declare that one Thomas Marvolo Riddle, the last Lord of House Gaunt, also known as Lord Voldemort-" Several members shuddered at the mention of the name. "-was never _the Heir of Slytherin_. A descendant, yes. But _not_ an Heir."

The entire Wizengamot stood silent at the proclamation, as members hung to every word spoken by the current Lord Slytherin.

"Also, I wish to shed light on certain events, events that, according to my father, have not been fully resolved due to the absence of Lord Slytherin. The event I speak of is the opening of the Chamber of secrets at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry during the 1992-93 school year."

Whispers broke in amongst the audience at the words. While they all knew about the petrification of several muggleborn students and the death of one student, they had never truly found the culprit or the location of the chamber. As such, Ares was now being paid more attention than ever before.

"There is an ongoing rumour," said Ares, "that my great ancestor, Salazar Alistair Slytherin, created the Chamber of Secrets, and had contained a _monster_ within it, in hope that a descendant of the House would purge the muggleborns attending Hogwarts, and ensure that only those pure of blood would learn of magic." Looking straight at the Chief Warlock, he asked, "With your permission, Chief Warlock, I would like to read an excerpt from the journal of Salazar Slytherin."

Ignoring the whispers and excitement rushing through the chamber, Odgen nodded. "You have my permission to proceed, Lord Slytherin."

Ares smiled and put his right hand into the inner left pocket of his robes. Removing what appeared to be a well-worn roll of parchment, he unfurled the scroll and began reading aloud.

" _ **Godric and Rowena are fools dressed as the wise. Do they not realise that revealing the school to the non-magicals would only hasten our destruction. We have seen the executions of our folk in the name of a faceless god. We have witnessed the burning of entire villages on the suspicion that one of our folk resided within. Have they not seen the blood dripping through the soil? Do they believe it to be mere illusion!? Hundreds have died, and my two friends wish to bring about the destruction of thousands.**_

 _ **I have debated long and hard, explaining all of my reasons in excruciating details and valid arguments, but they do not listen. They do not heed my words. Why do they think me a monster for taking away magical children from their mundane parents? It would help hide them from persecution and keep our world safe. They could be taken in by magical folk willing to adopt them. Even the school could take them in. We can certainly take care of them, especially with the number of house elves we have.**_

 _ **We are magicals. We must stand together to survive. Unlike what the Council may think, blood or ancestry does not matter. Only magic does. We must keep ourselves, and those like us, hidden away from the eyes of the mundane king and the bloody warlord who calls himself the pope.**_

 _ **However, my dream is not going to become a reality. Godric and Rowena will go ahead with this foolishness. I must protect the school, no matter what my friends may think of it.**_

 _ **I shall soon place my family guardian in the chamber I now occupy. It shall stand as the line of defense, should the school ever fall to mundane hands. If nothing else, it shall protect any students who still live.**_

 _ **I cannot leave them vulnerable to hands that would prey on them.**_

Ares folded the parchment and placed it back into his robes. He took a

moment to relish the silence pervading in the Chamber. Clearing his throat, he said, "Those lines were taken from the _Slytherin Family grimoire._ Over the years, the truth has been distorted, and my ancestor has been debased as a bigot, a killer of children and a proponent of blood purity when he has always been a silent guardian… A watchful protector. Even in death, he ensured the protections would not fall. The Chamber has always existed for the protection of _all the children_ of Hogwarts." He paused for a moment. "From my investigations, I have learnt that the Chamber has been opened since 1940, once in 1942, and once again in 1992. It was used by… _malicious entities_ wishing harm upon the innocent children walking the hallowed halls of the institution. While the _House of Slytherin_ was not the cause of the tragedies that occurred, we wish to offer restitution to the affected families. This does not, in any manner, lessen our responsibility in the matter _._ The Chamber belongs to our House. We have find the culprits responsible and execute them for corrupting the name of our ancestor and for harming Hogwarts. _"_

He paused as everyone waited with baited breath.

"The House of Slytherin shall provide a restitution of one thousand galleons to the families of students petrified by my family guardian. It has come to my attention that a student of Hogwarts fell prey to these _entities_ , and was forced to be an unwilling participant. I offer them one thousand galleons and the services of a mind-healer so that they may return to full health. Two students have also lost their lives during the time the chamber was active, one Myrtle Warren in 1942 and one Romilda Vane in 1993. No amount of gold can equal the value of a life. The House of Slytherin shall provide the families with a restitution of five thousand galleons and any services we can offer in the hope of reducing their grief."

Ares took a brief pause. "In the name of my great ancestor Salazar Slytherin, and my mother, the late Lady Lily _Slytherin_ , I, Ares James, the current Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Slytherin have created a vault for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Under the command of Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, the funds in the vault are to be used for muggleborns-"

Ares quickly moved back by a single step, feeling air rush across his chest before a small thud was heard to his lower right. Passing a quick glance over the slashed cloth of his Wizengamot robes across the chest and the knife embedded in the floor to his left, he moved into a battle stance, body standing on its side to present a smaller target and hands moving into a defensive posture as killing curse eyes focused the outstretched hand and the brown haired _moron_ attached to said hand.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yes, the story is more political. Yes, there will be more mind-numbing politics coming up. No, we shall not deviate from our path. And yes, we are basically ignoring canon wiki completely. No, we do not care. AT ALL.**

 **Well, me and my co-author are stuck in a bind between two stories and three blocks which we hope to clear soon.**

 **Answers to Reviews:**

 **DaSalvatore : You did raise quite a few valid points. We shall correct it. The blood based Fidelius is just as difficult to revoke as the usual Fidelius. You can't just remove people with a mere thought. These are wards, not simple spells. Remus… well, let's just say we have a plan. Or we will have one soon enough.**

 **AP: No, DaSalvatore, we do not believe that talking to no one makes secrecy simpler. Ares's thoughts aren't some super-secret Fidelius stuff that needs to be kept under unbreakable vows. Daphne isn't a fanon Hermione, and has her own personality. Hold your bits until you see it coming.**

 **To all Flamel theorists: You're close. Keep working on them.**

 **This week's special episode is cancelled due to an invasion of Teletubbies and crumple horned snorkacks. Due to combat operations involving a surplus of chocolate and Mc'Donald's special Chinese sauce, we shall be unavailable for the forse-**

 **Crumple Horned Snorkack: LICKS!**

 **Shit! Skadarken, get the jelly bean launcher. MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!**

 **Authors and Cast: FOR CUDDLES! CHARGE!**


	15. The Circus

_Ares quickly moved back by a single step, feeling air rush across his chest before a small thud was heard to his lower right. Passing a quick glance over the slashed cloth of his Wizengamot robes across the chest and the dagger embedded in the floor to his left, he moved into a battle stance, body standing on its side to present a smaller target and hands moving into a defensive posture as killing curse eyes focused the outstretched hand and the brown haired_ _moron_ _attached to said hand._

For the past hour, the Wizengamot had played host to a myriad of events. Some of them had merely shook a few bricks loose. Some had people scrambling to understand what was going on, and some were simply so astounding that the minds of the members, minds honed over playing the political game for decades against worthy opponents, had been brought to a screeching halt.

And yet, many did not fail to adapt to the changing field. Many rules that had to be followed to date were immediately discarded as the players began weaving new plots; plots to reinforce their positions, plots to mould the playing field to their advantage and plots to survive what appeared to be a new storm on the horizon.

However, none of them, not one single member of the most prestigious wing of the British Ministry of Magic, in the midst of all their scheming failed to notice the dagger which nearly pierced the boy standing on the platform and was now embedded hilt-deep in the _cracked floor_ of the Wizengamot. Not even the most ruthless and blood-thirsty of them had expected an _assassination attempt_ on the _Heir of a Most Ancient House_ in the _middle of the Wizengamot_.

Every single pair of eyes in the chamber turned towards the seats of the tier of Noble Houses, focusing on the location from which the dagger was thrown. Several Lords and Ladies blinked in surprise at the identity of the individual, a non-descript brown-haired individual who stood behind a seated Lord of a Noble House, his hand outstretched and eyes widened in shock.

The brown-haired man was wrestling with several emotions, fear and anger being primary. Fear at his life which was now coming to an end without achieving his objective and anger at the brat who had the nerve to _steal his master's birth right_. He cursed vividly at the situation, blaming the brat for side-stepping the dagger trajectory. Only one coherent thought was floating through his mind. _I should have carried an extra._

"Marcus Bulstrode?" Edward Nott uttered the name with complete shock. He could not hold his tongue, not when the man in question had followed through with a most foolish course of action. Edward knew ever since the Dark Lord had returned, plans were being made to quietly remove a few members of the opposing Houses and people who were highly vocal in their opposition against him. Once the Dark Lord was appraised of the events of this session, Edward had no doubts that Ares James Black would be the target of highest priority for all Death Eaters… if the attempt that would be made today ended in failure; and Edward hoped to the high heavens that it would. But this took the cake. A vassal of the Noble House of Rowle had attempted to end two Noble and Most Ancient Lines. _Rowle was going to be lucky to leave the chamber alive…_

Realising the members were focused on the would-be assassin, and knowing his father would now be prepared against further attempts, Ares turned to properly the examine the blade that had nearly ended his life. The strangely decorated dagger was buried hilt-deep into the stone floor of the chamber, a feat of considerable difficulty considering that the stones paving the chamber were said to have been enchanted by Emrys himself.

Scrutinizing the hilt, Ares frowned in confusion. The hilt was far too straight and narrow for a dagger, and the design did not match any specific culture he had studied. At the very least, the design appeared to be a fusion of two or more cultural designs. The hilt appeared quite plain, despite being solid gold and an engraving of Antipodean Opal-eye wrapped around it. Frown deepening, he wondered why his mind niggled in familiarity. Aunt Cassie did share quite a few tales of cu-

 _Wait._

 _Golden hilt. Antipodean Opal-eye? Could that be…? Shit. That's the-_

Turning around slowly, killing curse eyes blazed with fire as they glared at the soon-to-be-dead idiot who _still_ stood in shock. Deciding that daft cochons of the British Ministry needed a clear, concise warning, he shed his mask. Gone was the young man who had smiled mischievously at the pranks on the politicians. In his place, now stood a mage who knew his magic was strong and was not afraid to wield it. Glaring at the Bulstrode man, Ares released the shackles on his power. His immediate surroundings shimmered as a green mist swirled around him in waves of potent magic.

A moment later, raw killing intent flooded the chamber, all members unconsciously flinching back on their seats. Shivering at the cold, cold magic surrounding them, they looked at the bo- man whose magic was now permeating the entire chamber. Many unconsciously shivered at the fire in his eyes, trying to squeeze as far back on their seats as was possible, hoping to avoid the wrath of the powerful mage standing below them.

" _You… tried to kill… me?_ " Ares spoke slowly, each word uttered without emotion as a sibilant hissing sharpened the edges of his voice. A part of his mind, a distant part, marvelled at the members of the Wizengamot including the Chief Warlock shivering in fear at his words and feeling quite happy to see several Death Eaters sit still in terror.

" _You tried to kill my son_?" Sirius spoke calmly, cold fires of rage threatening to burst at the seams of his mind. Fortunately, his instincts which protected him all his life kicked in, barely stopping him from casting the organ pulverising curse Cassiopeia was so fond of. It was only the sight of his completely unharmed son that stayed his son, his Lord Black persona rising to the fore. Sneering at the dead man walking, rage-filled eyes shifted slightly down, focusing on the perpetrator truly responsible for the act.

" _Lord Rowle,_ " Sirius sneered, "Your _vassal_ attempted to end the life of my Heir, the Heir of the Most Ancient House of Black and the Head of House Slytherin who is also the Heir of the Noble and Ancient Houses of Potter, Ross and McGonagall. He has attempted to end the line of the House of a Founder, a House that was considered extinct for over eight hundred years, and the House responsible for saving us from Lord Voldemort at the end of the last Wizarding War. I demand immediate satisfaction, or the Houses of Black, Potter and Slytherin shall declare a blood feud upon you and our own."

Thorfin Rowle stood up shakily from his seat. Marcus Bulstrode, the younger brother of Anthony Bulstrode, the Head of Family Bulstrode, had always been a rather impatient man. Rowle had always known that the man's tendency to _react without thought_ in situations would someday come to bite the man. But he certainly did not expect the man's shortcomings to damage the Noble House of Rowle. The portly man glanced at Marcus for a moment, turned to stare Lord Black in the eye and considered his options. Knowing full well what Sirius could demand of him, he needed to ensure the House of Rowle retained what power and dignity it could. Gulping, he spoke haltingly, "I- What I mean is-"

"I demanded _satisfaction_ , Rowle and I shall have it _immediately_."Sirius repeated, staring at his son from the corner of his eye. The murderous intent emanating from Ares gave him comfort and yet made him wish to step back in horror. Two opposing feelings, and he could not bring himself to choose one over the other. He had end to this before any more chaos occurred in this farce of a circus.

 _Ares…._

Steeling himself, Sirius glanced at Rowle to find the man sweating in fear. Nose wrinkling in distaste, he glanced at the Chief Warlock.

Tiberius Nott had been a part of the Wizengamot for over a hundred years. He had presided over trials, watched members betray each other, order assassinations on their detractors and even perform open murder by manipulating the rules governing the Houses to their own end. But, never in his life had he seen anyone foolish enough to attempt a murder _within the chamber_. It was horrifying, and the magic pouring from the young man standing below him was not helping the situation. Finally, regaining a measure of calm, he opened his lips to address the situation when Ares Black cut him off.

"I challenge you to an honour duel, Bulstrode."

Marcus Bulstrode flinched. "I am not going to fight against a _boy_." He sneered, trying to intimidate the teenager. Heir of a Most Ancient House or not, he was a kid and the challenge posed minimal. He had pride and was not about to lower himself to kill a kid in a duel meant for men.

"If you do not accept, I shall end your life this instant." Ares replied, voice devoid of emotion. "I will not ignore the insult on my House. Either fight me in an honour duel, or forfeit your House and your _will_ to the Most Ancient House of Slytherin."

"Mister Black, I hardly think that such a measure i-" Dumbledore spoke, body running on automatic at the change of events.

"These are matters pertaining to the Most Ancient House of Slytherin, Headmaster Dumbledore. It does not fall under the purview of Hogwarts. Keep your crooked nose out of our business." Sirius shut him up instantly, his eyes locked on the formidable stance his son was displaying. There was a once a time when he felt that saving people was the most important thing a wizard could do, a lesson taught to him by the man who had treated him like a son. Charlus Potter, the father of James, was a true hero, a man who stood for his principles. He had taken Sirius in after his mother, Walburga Black, had banished him from the House of Black in his sixth year. The man had taught him many things, lessons which Sirius still held dear to his heart, others he knew did not belong in an imperfect world. It felt like a lifetime ago that Sirius was an auror, a profession he had chosen due to the value of life instilled in him by Charlus.

All of that changed when Sirius visited his grandfather, Arcturus Orion Black, in the latter half of the year 1979, those few weeks spent in the company of the now deceased Lord Black had changed him. His grandfather had removed the blinders Sirius placed on himself and shattered his illusions with a few words, and a wand when required.

* * *

 _ **October, 1979…**_

" _Who sent the letter, Padfoot?"_

 _Sirius Black turned to look at his face of his best friend. James Potter had been his brother in all but blood. The first person in all of Hogwarts to accept him despite his name and who had stayed by his side through thick and thin and taken him into his family when Sirius's own abandoned him. Lips twitching in an imperceptible smile at the thoughts, the Senior Auror held the letter, face up, towards James whose eyes widened at the name of the sender._

" _Uncle Arcturus?" James said, surprise colouring his words. Surprise quickly turning to confusions, he asked "Why is he contacting you after all these years? I mean, he let your mother banish you from the House…"_

" _Go ahead," Sirius sighed. "Read it. I don't mind."_

 _James took the letter, holding it like it was the Monstrous Book of Monsters. Once he was sure there was no curse affecting him, he opened the letter. It was rather short, and written in neat calligraphy, on vellum, expensive material and used for formal communication by Lords and Ladies. But Sirius was banished from the family by the mother, and the event was publicized heavily by the media. There was no way anyone would forget about it, certainly not Lord Black himself. But for him to write to Sirius as an equal, obeying all the protocols of communication between Lords was quite vexing. Holding the vellum with both hands, he read the words, eyebrows shooting into his hair line at the second line._

 _ **To Sirius Orion,  
Heir of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black.**_

 _ **There are certain pressing matters at hand I should like to discuss with you in private. These are matters relating to the line of Black and are not for the ears of outsiders. To ensure both security and privacy while we engage in discussions, I formally welcome to the Ancestral Manor of the Blacks. If you are still the child I remember you to be, place three drops of your blood on this letter. It shall deliver you to your destination.**_

 _ **If you do not wish to further associate with the House of Black, feel free to burn the letter. No matter your choice, my blessings be with you.**_

 _ **Arcturus Orion,  
Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black.**_

" _What are you going to do, Padfoot?" James asked finally. The contents of the letter were quite… surprising, and judging by the look on Padfoot, he was confused too._

 _Sirius felt conflicted, parts of him warring against each other. Sighing, he said, "I don't… I don't know, James. All modesty aside, you know me better than anyone. You know I don't want to have anything to do with my family." He felt the familiar stab of grief as he spoke the words._

" _Then destroy the letter." James suggested. "Uncle Arcturus specifically stated you didn't have to accept if you didn't want the offer."_

 _Sirius turned away, nostalgic eyes looking up at the sky, looking at the heavens for an answer in vain. The sky was always beautiful at this spot. James and he had always loved their little private spot between the village of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, mainly for the view at night. He always felt more at peace underneath the stars. "I wish I could, James. I really wish I could simply ignore it. But I can't, James." He paused, not sure how his brother would take it. Hell, he wasn't sure how to react to the conflicts that arose in him quite frequently._

" _Why not, Padfoot? What's stopping you from simply moving on?" James asked, squeezing his shoulder in affection. He knew Sirius still missed his family… well, the saner part of it anyway. Andromeda still talked to him, but James understood Sirius still valued his family, no matter the disparaging remarks of his insane mother and arrogant father and cousins. But none of them held the love and respect of Sirius like Arcturus Orion Black._

" _The Blacks have always been named after constellations. While I might not like my family now, a long, long time ago… it feels like decades… I was proud to be a Black." Sirius laughed. "Grandfather told me he named me Sirius Orion, the brightest star in the sky and the constellation of the hunter. He told me that I was a born fighter and loyal to a fault, just like my namesakes. He said I'd make a proud member of the House of Black one day." He chuckled at the memory of his grandfather's smirk. "He was especially amused when my animagus form was a grim."_

 _James nodded, choosing not to comment at all._

" _Grandfather once told me that he had chosen me as his Heir, despite the fact that it should have been my father to take up the mantle. Before I started Hogwarts, he recused himself from politics and moved to the manor in Bulgaria, leaving the family in the hands of my father, and my mother became more fanatical, more obsessed with the idiocy running rampant all around. Her… stupid beliefs in blood and two-faced monsters… I couldn't take it. Sometimes, I wonder if that's why the hat chose Gryffindor for me. Not because I was some brave kid, but because I hated what my family became and I wanted nothing to do with them." Sirius traced a constellation with his right index finger. "Grandfather always told me I was born to be in Slytherin."_

" _What do you want to do, Padfoot?" James pressed. Sometimes, his best friend needed a good push to get him moving. "Know that, no matter what you choose, I will always stand with you."_

 _Sirius turned back at him, a small sad smile on his face. "You would?"_

" _Of course," James laughed it away. He recognised the look on his friend. "Unless, of course, you decide to come back with a veela chick on both arms. Then, I reserve all rights to prank you for the next month."_

 _Sirius felt a relaxing smile grace his features. Trust his friend to make him smile. He always wondered how he got so lucky._

 _James handed the letter back to him with a smile. "Go ahead, go and talk to him. Besides, you do have to cash in your leave. Take it."_

" _I have a feeling that this might be worth it, Prongs." Sirius replied softy. Conjuring a knife, he made a small incision on his right index finger, squeezing three drops of blood onto the vellum. The vellum glowed blue for a second before he felt the familiar tug at his navel signifying portkey activation._

 _The sound of a cracking whip disturbed the serene atmosphere of the grounds of the Ancestral Manor as Sirius appeared a few feet above the grass. His instincts kicking in, Sirius rolled with the fall, dissipating the extra momentum. Passing a quick glance at his surroundings to ensure he was in the right place, he stood up and waved his wand, removed the dirt and grass stains on his robes. He stared at the wooden doors of the manor, hesitated for a second before taking a firm breath and began walking forward._

 _Opening the door, he entered the foyer, looked around and closed the doors behind him. He began walking down the hallway, feet following the familiar path to the parlour. As soon as he walked in, a familiar voice passed through his ears._

" _You still look like the same kid who got lost in the Black vaults."_

 _Sirius stood still, staring at the face he would never forget in his life. Despite the long years, the man looked like he had barely aged a day. Long black hair framing his face and tied back in a ponytail, steel grey eyes oozing power and a posture of supreme confidence, the manner of a man who knew he was powerful and the world was his to control. For a fleeting moment, he remembered why Lord Arcturus Black was his icon, the man he aspired to be._

" _Still the child lost in the library, I see." The deep, cultured voice of Arcturus brought Sirius out his reverie. Leaning back on the armchair he was seated on, he said, "I must say, I am quite happy you chose to accept my invitation and not live in your… illusions."_

" _What do you mean?" Sirius asked, body automatically shifting into a defensive stance. His mind returning to the present, he asked, sneering at the words, "Have you invited me to join the Dark Lord?"_

 _Arcturus waved his hand negligently, the denial plain for anyone to see. "You know I hold blood in high regard. Why would I support a mudblood, especially to let the bastard gain power over the House of Black?"_

" _What do you mean?" Sirius asked, caught off-guard by his comment. What was his grandfather talking about? There were no muggleborns fighting on the side of the Death Eaters._

 _Arcturus laughed heartily at his grandson's ignorance. "Is that true? Has the great Albus Dumbledore been holding his secrets to himself? Has he failed to inform the members of his little club? What was it that you called yourselves? The Order something…"_

" _Order of the Phoenix." Sirius replied defiantly._

" _Yes, yes." Arcturus waved him off. "Led by your noses, all of you and at the heel of a man who considers himself the Merlin of our world." Ignoring his grandson's bristling, he asks, "Tell me Sirius, why exactly…do you fight?"_

" _What do you mean?" Sirius asked, unsure of his grandfather's intentions. Whatever expectations he may have had were now well and truly blown out of the water, and the questions keeping him decidedly off-balance._

 _Arcturus shook his head in a combination of anger and annoyance. Looking Sirius in the eye, he spoke with a measure of steel. "Despite his forceful personality and political acumen, Charlus Potter is a healer at heart, a man who wishes to save people. He does not possess the disposition necessary to take a life. Despite his brash exterior and the attitude of a dragon, my nephew, James, is a believer in the ideals of his father. My sister, his mother, is far too much of a pacifist to be of any help."_

 _Sirius sighed. He hated it when his grandfather gave explanations without the context necessary to understand the underlying meaning of his words. "Explain."_

 _Arcturus smirked in amusement. "This…_ Dark Lord _of yours is no Heir of Slytherin. He is the result of an unfortunate union between the muggle and a squib descendant of the despicable Gaunt line."_

 _Sirius widened his eyes in shock, before his auror instincts took hold. Staring at the Lord seated in the plush armchair, he asked shrewdly, "If what you say is true, why you allowed Regulus, a son of the House of Black, the same House you believe is better than the best, to follow in the footsteps of the mudblood you seem to hate?"_

 _Arcturus shrugged. "Because he had his reasons. I am pretty sure that if you ask him, he would say that he joined the mudblood because you're supporting James Potter. He has always seen young James as the reason why you chose Gryffindor. Regulus believes that you always favoured my nephew over your own brother and resents James for taking his brother away, and you for abandoning him when you left home to settle with the Potters."_

" _But that's… that's…." Sirius stuttered, not quite able to speak his mind. The words had struck deep in him._

 _Arcturus sneered. "I am sure even Bellatrix has reasons of her own, no how childish they may be. She has always been obsessed with the darker aspects of magical combat. I am quite sure_ The Dark lord- _" He sneered, "- recognised her potential and enticed her with the knowledge she sought, and she decided to accept his offer, especially when your piss-poor excuse of an uncle married her off to that useless son of the Lestrange House." His eyes darkened at the words leaving his lips. "Andromeda chose to follow her own path and Narcissa… well, let's call her collateral damage and leave it to that."_

 _Sirius stepped back slightly, unwilling to accept the truth at him. His grandfather's gift of finding a person's weakness and twisting the knife had always served him well._ Too well. _He thought bitterly. Mind in turmoil at the heart wrenching truth he knew but could not accept, he stared at his grandfather with hateful eyes._

" _So tell me Sirius, What motivates you? Why do you follow the path you are on?" Arcturus paused. "I do not believe you have followed the path of James Potter without a good reason. Of them all, you were the only one to always follow your heart." He shook his head. "The one quality that stopped you from being a true Slytherin."_

" _I have a reason." Sirius ground out. "I do what I do because it is the right thing and it must be done."_

 _Arcturus raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? Are you sure it is not because_ James Potter _and your_ adoptive family _Are fighting against Voldemort?" He smirked at the young man's expression, knowing very,_ very _well that he struck a raw nerve. "I know Charlus has always been a man of peace. Albus Dumbledore, despite my dislike for the man and his policies, is the only one both powerful and willing to take an active stance against the mudblood."_

 _He paused for a moment, knowing Sirius would not ignore the truth when it stood before him. "Tell me, grandson, would you still fight in the war if, say, the Potters decided to abandon the war and leave England? What if they decide to change sides? What if they ended up dead?"_

" _Shut up."_

 _Arcturus ignored him. "This is a war,_ Boy _. In war,_ people die _. Just like the McKinnon's did last month. I do recall hearing rumours that you were quite smitten with the Heiress."_

" _Shut. UP." Sirius gritted his teeth._ How dare he…?

 _Arcturus's lips curled into an expression that could not be described. "If what I have said comes to pass, would you still fight alongside Dumbledore and the Order? Have your Gryffindor sensibilities addled your brain so badly that you ignore the whispers surrounding you? Whispers that ignore all you have done, and only focus on your lineage, unable to look beyond?"_

" _What's... your point?" Sirius wanted to tear the place apart. He clenched his fists, lest his hands tighten around his grandfather's neck._

 _Arcturus scowled. "That my heir is living in an illusion of his own making. Tell me, Sirius Orion, why do_ you _fight?"_

 _Sirius glared at him, anger burning through his blood. "Because I do not believe in the ignorant beliefs of those who would kill in the name of blood. Bacause this damned war has taken away those I love from me. Because…" He felt his knees weaken at the words tumbling from his lips. Months of pain, grief and anger flooding out of him, his eyes staring at the floor. "Because my brothers James and Remus, my sister Lily and the rest of my friends might not survive this flood." Grey eyes looked up, a look of steel in them. "I am not ignorant about the whispers surrounding me, the looks accusing me of being a traitor, despite the fact that I fought alongside them, saved them, shed blood, sweat and tears besides my fellow aurors. Like my uncle Charlus always says, It is the right thing to do."_

 _Arcturus laughed. "Idealist. Go figure."_

 _Sirius gnashed his teeth at the remark. "What's… your… problem?"_

" _Ideals drag you down to your graves, Sirius." The man spoke after a minute of chuckling._

 _Sirius stared at Arcturus in confusion._

 _Arcturus had a steely glint in his eyes. "If you want to fight, fight for yourself. If you care for the Potters, fight for them; the family that granted you protection and cared for you after your birth parents abandoned you. Though," He paused, "I would have protected you, Sirius. If you had chosen to come to me all those years ago, I would have."_

 _Grey eyes widened in shock, and not a little hope. "You… would?"_

 _Arcturus nodded. "I would have, and I will, without hesitation. However, if your primary desire is to never hurt a soul, clinging to foolish ideals, choosing to let your enemies live, then you may do as you wish. But if you do follow this path, remember that it must be of your own will, not following the footsteps of another…"_

 _Sirius blanched at the words._

 _Arcturus gazed at his grandson shrewdly. "Know that following your own desires, whether they be good or bad, is a far better path. As long as you follow them of your own free will, not the borrowed ideals you cling to, you can live a life free of regrets." Steepling his fingers, he leaned forward. "After hearing the truth, and knowing that your path will only lead to the ruin of you and yours, do you still wish to follow the ideals you now live with?"_

" _But…" Sirius tried, not willing to admit the truth._

" _Salvation at the hand of the others is like currency, Sirius. These are not trite words taken from a random book, but borne of decades of experience, boy. If you continue to cling to these… ideals, they will destroy you."_

 _Sirius collapsed to his knees like a puppet without strings. All of his worries, his pain-fuelled alcoholic binges, his nightmares… all of them came to the fore, forcing him to acknowledge the truth his grandfather was trying to show him. Looking at Arcturus, he spoke haltingly. "I… I told them… many, many times… to just get away from it all, from the… monster clamouring for their lives. I begged them to leave… repeatedly. I've argued with them for days." He grit his teeth in frustration, tears streaking his cheeks and dripping from his chin. "But why won't they just listen?"_

 _Arcturus's lips formed a true smile. "I always knew I made them right choice when I named you my Heir, Sirius, and you go out of your way to prove that I was right, no matter what the rest of the family said about my decision. Irrespective of your stance in the war, the ancestral manor of the Blacks, the manor we stand in, is offered as a safe house if you ever need it. I need not remind that the fortifications are second to none."_

 _Stunned at his grandfather's change, Sirius stood up, wiping the tears off his face. Taking a few moments to compose himself, he asked, "Why would offer the ancestral manor to me? I am not the heir."_

" _Don't you pay any attention to my words, boy?" asked Arcturus scathingly._

" _But mother threw me out-"_

 _Arcturus sneered at Sirius. "You are speaking to the_ Lord _of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. If I say that you are my heir, then that means you are_ my heir _, no matter what your parents or that French goat might think."_

" _But…." Sirius stopped as the realisation hit him. "You changed the will."_

 _Arcturus scowled. "My idiot of a son had always bowed to the insanity of your mother, a fact which is utterly disliked by me. How such a cowardly spawn was born from me, only Merlin should know."_

" _So… why am I here?" Sirius asked finally. A part of his mind was jumping with glee, imagining the reaction from his family when they finally realise the truth._

 _Arcturus frowned. "I believe my intentions were made clear. Nevertheless, allow me to repeat the words. Every Heir of the House of Black must undergo the training regimen and rituals necessary to command the familial magics of our House. None but the Lord and the Heir may know the arts. As such, during the entire period of your training, I shall be the only company you have."_

" _Uh," Sirius replied intelligently._

" _If you decide to leave, you are free to do so. However, if you decide to stay, then I shall teach you what it means to be the Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. You will learn the true meaning of the blood that flows through your veins, and you will take my place on the watchtower."_

Sirius closed his eyes and sighed. He had returned to England after six weeks, a changed man. No longer was he the jovial auror who simply followed his best friend James. He had become far too composed, wielding magic more powerful than ever. The Sirius of old had vanished, the future Lord of Black now walking among those he considered prey.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he looked at Ares, his son, at his stance against everything the world threw at him. A part of hi could not help but worry about the consequences of his son's aggression, worried Ares was painting a bigger target on himself. However, he remembered words spoken by his grandfather.

 _If you keep fighting for your ideals, then your ideals will be the only thing you save. Not yourself, not your loved ones, and certainly not the world._

* * *

A slow smile spread across his lips. "If my son wants an honour duel, then the due shall be paid. If the Bulstrode family refuses to pay the due, then its magic shall become a part of House Slytherin."

"I am _not_ going to fight that _boy_." Marcus Bulstrode raged, before the sound of the gavel attracted his attention.

"Aurors, arrest Mister Bulstrode immediately." The Chief Warlock ruled. The magic permeating the room sent quiet shivers down his spine.

"I will not accept that, Chief Warlock." Sirius intervened angrily. "That man tried to assassinate my son, and he shall pay for his crime. He will pay his due in blood."

Ares felt the breath vanish at the declaration of his father. Padfoot had never acted in this manner before. Padfoot had given his express permission for the duel, when Ares expected him to refuse. He nodded towards his father, and was surprised when it was returned.

"Are you saying that you think yourself above the rules of the Wizengamot, Lord Black?" Dumbledore challenged.

"On the contrary, I think I am defending the Wizengamot, _Mister_ Dumbledore." Sirius contradicted, "Unless of course, you wish to step over the rights allotted to the Ancient nobility."

That shut Dumbledore up.

"Now Chief Warlock," Sirius addressed Odgen, "Does my son have your permission to continue?"

Tiberius Odgen hesitated for a moment, before he gave in and nodded.

"Right," Sirius smirked as he looked up at the Noble tier. "Decide."

Surprising everyone, Rowle answered the challenge. "As the Liege Lord of House Bulstrode, I will not allow the House to fall into destitution because of the crime committed by a single member. Marcus Bulstrode shall accept the honor duel." He cleared his throat a little exuberantly, before taking his seat, not a single indication of regret or guilt that he had thrown his vassal to the wolves.

Ares could not help the smirk growing on his lips. "So… _Mister_ Bulstrode, do you accept my challenge?"

"You will not even have the chance to regret your words, boy" Bulstrode snarled. "And you even made your murder legally acceptable. Where do you want to die?"

"Here," Ares said, pointing to the platform he currently stood on. "In the middle of the Wizengamot without delay. A duel _to the death_."

The words shocked everyone out of their wits. There was no doubt that the boy was politically sharp, but to take on a duel to the death against a far more experienced opponent was utter madness.

"…Are you sure you wish to duel him, Mister Black?" Odgen asked not without hesitation.

"I would not have stated otherwise." Ares refuted calmly.

"Just a moment." Yaxley stood up, trying to stop the incident before it escalated any further. "This is the auspicious Wizengamot chamber. Not a playground for you to duel."

"Of course. It is the auspicious Wizengamot chamber, the same auspicious chamber that did not hesitate to help Lord Malfoy attempt line-theft of _my_ House and throw me in prison, the same chamber which has no issues in someone trying to assassinate me with a dagger, but I suppose upholding the rights of Ancient nobility is taboo." Ares drawled sarcasm oozing through his tone. "Forgive me, Lord Yaxley. I must forgotten that the laws were changed few minutes ago, were they not…?"

A very embarrassed Yaxley sat down, tongue-tied at the biting remarks. Sirius chuckled softly. Ares did have a temper, no matter how composed he liked to act.

Sneer etched on his face, Bulstrode walked down the stairs and stepped onto the platform, taking a position on the end opposite to Ares.

With the nod from the Chief Warlock, Dullard stood up and drew his wand. Pointing his wand towards the platform, he muttered a few obscure words, causing the runes on the platform to glow, and a powerful transparent barrier to enclose the space, trapping Ares and Bulstrode inside.

Odgen spoke gravely. "As Chief Warlock, I acknowledge the honour duel demanded by Ares James Black-Slytherin and accepted by Marcus Bulstrode. If either one does not wish to continue further, they may speak now."

As expected, there were no words from either duellist. Bulstrode tightened his fingers around his wand, glaring at his opponent with hatred. Ares held his white wand in a loose grip.

Sirius felt sorry for the idiot who would fall at the hands of his son.

"Very well. The duel begins… NOW!" The Warlock ordered.

Bulstrode instantly raised his wand, a powerful severing hex flying from the tip. With a casual flick, Ares deflected the spell, the barrier glowing from being struck.

"Is that all?" Ares asked, raising an eyebrow.

With a snarl, Marcus began weaving his wand, sending a quick succession of bludgeoners, cutting hexes and borderline dark curses towards the boy.

Said boy looked to be quite bored with the situation, only to crouch at the very last moment, the curses flying over his head. Standing up, Ares asked with a cocky smirk, "Do you mind if I take a spell at you now?"

The words only served to further enrage the other man, who shouted to the heavens before shoving his wand towards his opponent, raining blasting curses as he began moving forward. The strategy was quite sound. Since the barrier trapped his opponent and the wide area of the blasting curses would keep him in place, Marcus could utilise the smaller distance to quickly finish the boy off. He never expected a shield to block _all_ of his curses. Snarling, he said, "I will kill you, you bas-" Bulstrode stopped midway, both in words and steps, as he realised that something felt strange. While he was unable to pinpoint the source, his instincts were screaming that something had gone _very, very wrong_.

A few seconds later, he felt the flesh of his abdomen tear a very familiar blade flew out and into the hand of the now smirking boy. Looking down, his eyes widened at the open wound, fresh bleed spurting from the gash. A second later, an entirely unwelcome sensation washed over him.

And then Marcus Bulstrode knew pain.

Within seconds, the features of the man twisted in pain before he collapsed forward, wand clattering from his now loose fist. A moment later, his breathing stopped and the Wizengamot started in shock, horror, vicious satisfaction and a whole other host of emotions.

"Humph!" Ares remarked. "I suppose that ends it. The idiot could not even block a simple dagger." He brushed off imaginary lint from his robes as he stood over the dead body of his opponent. "I suppose that settles it. The slight of honour is considered paid in full."

Not a single person made a sound following his declaration.

* * *

"You do know right that this will have far-reaching implications?" Daphne asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I recall you said something similar back then before the House Assembly." Ares returned with a lop-sided grin, making the girl roll her eyes in exasperation.

The Wizengamot session had ended and the members had begun leaving the floor via the elevator twenty minutes ago.

"Did you really have to start a body count at fifteen, Black?" Theo pipped in from behind, as Ares glanced back at him. " You could not have waited a few months. Honour duel or not, you killed a guy in the middle of the chamber. I am no expert, but that will not endear you to the Houses."

"I assure you Nott, I did not start a body count at fifteen." Ares replied genially, Daphne's features twisting for a mere moment before his right arm snaked around her waist, making said girl elbow him in embarrassment. "How many problems did you guys encounter after my trial?"

Theo's eyes widened at the unspoken answer from Ares. The reaction from Daphne told him the rest. Composing himself, he answered, "Nothing Blaise and I could not handle."

"Oh." Ares raised an eyebrow. "So you were attacked. And pray tell, who was the moron?"

"No one important," Daphne interjected, not wanting to continue the line of discussion, and certainly not willing to give her boyfriend a new target for his ire.

The trio had reached the end of the corridor they were walking down stood in front of the elevator.

"Get ready Black. The hounds are will go after you once we reach the atrium." Theo replied meaningfully, as Ares nodded.

The boy had, in his own precocious way, intimated to Ares about the prospect of a possible ambush. While Ares did not have a high opinion of any member of the Dark Alliance, he knew better than to be complacent about potential danger. "I know. I hope I can avoid them without creating a scene."

"You cannot do that." Daphne chided Ares, unwilling to remove his arm from her waist. "If you bypass the reporters, it gives them free reign to write all the speculation they want."

A mirthful expression spread across Ares's face. "Of course, how could I even think of doing so?"

Theo smirked at the response.

* * *

Sirius and Jonathan approached the trio at the elevators with the unfortunate addition of the Minister of Magic. Cornelius Fudge, it seemed, was insisted on being a part of their conversation, despite their attempts to deflect the attentions of the man.

Jonathan was the one who suggested to Sirius that it might to his benefit to develop a rapport with the minister. After all, despite all the mistakes committed by the man, he was quite useful to their plans.

While Sirius wanted nothing more than to throttle the Minister for putting his son in a cell, never mind that it was his plan in the first place, he knew he could not simply afford to ignore the _Minister of Magic_. He could grudgingly accept that Fudge was a hard worker, to those who lined his pockets, and it was a good idea to keep the Minister in good graces, no matter how short a term he had left.

Ever since the moment the session had ended, the Minister of Magic had all but leapt towards Sirius, trying to reinforce the fact (with what the man _thought_ was subtlety) that he was _the Minister_ and it would serve the purposes of Lord Black to form a working relationship with him.

"As I was saying Sirius, we must have a private discussion regarding the new agenda of the Houses of Black and Slytherin. Besides I do feel regret for my mistake against the House of Black. Lucius Malfoy produced fake evidence about the inheritance, deceiving the Ministry into detaining your Heir for a short period. I assure you that I feel very guilty in my complicity of the event and would like to help you in any way possible." Cornelius put on a fake expression of apology, causing a snort to erupt from Sirius.

"Jonathan," He spoke the words slowly, "do you mind if going ahead? I need to discuss _personal matters_ with the Minister." Sirius uttered. Said man nodded silently, joining the trio of teenagers at the elevator.

Sirius turned towards Fudge, and cast a privacy ward. "Let me be perfectly candid, Minister Fudge. I was a _Senior Auror_ around the same time you held the Undersecretary post of the DMLE under Barty Crouch. Yet, that knowledge did not stop you trying to my son to the wolves. Do not think for a moment that I am blind to your true intentions. I am not an idiot, _Fudge_."

Fudge looked gobsmacked for a second, before he tried to compose himself. His assumptions had just been proven wrong. Sirius Black was no politician. Unlike his son, this man was a blunt hammer, designed to wreak as much havoc as possible. Fudge knew quite a few such mavericks and he understood very well the danger posed by such people. Between the blunt approach of Lord Black and the precision of his Heir, the House of Black would become truly unpredictable. That was a danger to the current political landscape, especially since none of them knew who made the final decision in the House. The fools might think the Lord always made the decisions for the House, but Fudge was experienced and savvy enough to understand the complexities of _real politics_.

"Very well," he replied at last, knowing any subtle ploys were useless with the new Lord Black. "Yes, I am aware that you understand what my motivations are. They are the same motivations that suited Lucius when he came to power using his false claim on the inheritance which you command and wield with formidable presence. Your son is now the Heir to several powerful Houses, not to mention the surprise dealt to the entire chamber when he announced his Headship of the House of Slytherin. I admit that it was a mistake to try your son in front of the entire political world, and I am still paying the price." He seemed to gain some spine from the words. "However, you, Lord Black, and your son, Heir Slytherin, have been absent from the British wizarding world for the past fourteen years." A smile spread across his lips. "Despite the abilities House Black has displayed during the past two sessions, you have yet to gain the necessary power to make changes as per your desire. I can help you there. I have not been idle for the past fourteen years, Lord Black. I do know where the skeletons are buried, people to talk to, those who avoid, people who would oppose you and their weaknesses. I even possess quite a bit of control over the Daily Prophet and the Wireless. If we were to cooperate, it could… _hasten_ your plans, allowing you to surpass _Dumbledore_ in the political arena."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, face eerily blank. Inwardly, he was disgusted with the man and his eagerness to sell out his allies. No wonder Britain was in the state it was. When the leaders were cut from the same cloth as Fudge, what could you expect? Although, that emphasis on Dumbledore… "Why the emphasis on Albus Dumbledore, Minister?"

Cornelius scowled. "I am neither foolish nor blind, Lord Black. Your son has rejected the help of Dumbledore several time before and during his trial. Today, your House and your allies have demonstrated a near… indifference to the old man. The fact that your son is here because of the law passed by Dumbledore is no secret."

Sirius gazed at the man. No matter the rumours and opinions surrounding the man, the conversation made it clear that Fudge was no fool. "I will consider your offer. But, indulge my curiosity. How am I supposed to trust a man who has ignored the _threat_ brewing on the horizon, and has actively worked towards discrediting any person who sought to tell the truth?"

Cornelius looked like a naughty kid who had just pulled off a prank without being found. "If you are interested in my offer, Lord Black, let us meet soon and I shall give you the answer you seek."

Sirius observed the man keenly. It was obvious that Fudge was baiting him. If he agreed, Cornelius would have secured another meeting to try and impress him (intimidation was out of the question). If he did not… there was nothing to lose from a meeting with the man.

"Very well," Sirius replied neutrally, "I will consider your… offer. You may await my owl." With a rather pointed stab of his wand, he dispersed off the privacy ward.

Cornelius gave a rather malicious grin. "I shall wait for your reply, Lord Black."

"What are you discussing about, Father?"

Sirius spun back to see his son standing behind him, accompanied by Daphne and the Nott heir. Despite the assurances he received from Ares, a part of him could not help but feel wary about the Nott Heir's presence near his son. "Nothing that cannot be discussed in private, Ares. The Minister and I were merely…. reintroducing each other."

Cornelius nodded quickly to show his own enthusiasm.

Ares ignored the man and stepped into the no arrived elevator along with his girlfriend, her father, Theo and Sirius.

Knowing he would not progress any further today, Cornelius bit back a sigh and entered the elevator and the doors closed behind him.

* * *

The moment the doors of the elevator slammed open, Ares and the rest of his group found their world inundated with bright flashes of light. A vindictive part of him wanted to cast the _tenebris_ charm, and see how the reporters liked it when their world goes dark for a long time. Or even better, the _cogitatio_ charm which would reflect the flashes with three times their normal intensity. His fingers twitched in preparation, but his girlfriend squeezed his fingers lightly, an action he reciprocated.

Standing in front of them, a few feet from the elevator doors, were a sea of reporters, cameras and dozens of dictation-quills scribbling on levitating notepads and parchment. Most, if not all, of them were shouting questions that the group still standing inside the elevator.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius noticed Fudge puff up noticeably at the sight of the reporters. He shared a glance with Jonathan, the duo rolling their eyes simultaneously.

Theo squinted at the bright flashes, eyes flying around the entire atrium. Daphne, standing next to Ares and ahead of Theo, whispered to her boyfriend, warning him to not pull one of his pranks. His girlfriend whispering in his ear, Ares spotted Dumbledore standing to the left and just beyond the swarm of reporters, standing in front of his own media circle, answering questions with a smile on his face and twinkle in his eyes.

Once the flashes had reduced slightly, Ares finally realised the reporters were not what he expected. He did expect the British wizarding media, but from the looks of it, it seemed that the swarm contained the presence of international media as well.

"Ready to throw yourself to the hyenas, son?" Sirius urged his son, making Ares elbow him in exasperation. Daphne cleared her throat, warning the father and son duo to stop playing around while Jonathan and Theo smirked at the action.

"When in Rome…" Ares muttered to himself, as he forced himself to exit the elevator beside his friends and family. He could not complain, considering he knew the full consequences of his actions and the fact that he would have to face the vultures' sooner or later. Stepping in front of the reporters, he briefly entertained the idea of cementing a dark lord image. It would be hilarious, if nothing else. Although… He sighed, knowing his father, mentors and girlfriend would kill him.

Ignoring the question shouted at him, Ares glanced around the rather crowded atrium. _Too many people…_ He clucked his tongue at the number of obstructions, if an attack did occur. _Would Voldemort attack now, even after he did everything he could to hide himself?_ Looking around, he thought _I certainly would not do that._

A part of him, the one raised by Pad and the memory of his parents' sacrifice, bartered him for placing himself in the shoes of the man, but, at the end of the day, there was a part of Ares that truly respected the Dark Lord. The man had not only returned to a better physical form than he previously possessed, but had quickly begun rebuilding his forces while discrediting his opposition.

 _There is a reason why he is regarded as one of the worst dark lords of all time, Black. Never forget why._

His introspection was cut short by a subtle jab in his ribs, Sirius and Daphne discreetly pulling back their hands. Biting back a sigh, he shouted, "If you want your questions answered, ask them. ONE at a time. Until then, I shall remain silent."

It took a few minutes before the reporters finally ceased shouting and a single question was posed by a wiry-looking reporter.

"Mister Black, how did you become the Lord Slytherin?"

Ares took a deep breath, looked straight at the reporter and said, "My House, the House of Slytherin, is a Most Ancient House which was considered extinct for over eight centuries. As such, the House has not adopted the rituals of inheritance followed in this era. Due to the absence of a Lord for all these centuries, the inheritance of House Slytherin is in accordance with the ancient rites of inheritance."

"Ancient rules of inheritance?" A blonde haired man, one Ares recognised from the trial, asked. "If you would be so kind as to explain the meaning of the term for our readers…"

Ares smiled. He had spent quite a bit of time preparing for the question, knowing full well it would correct the misconceptions of many foolish people. "Before Hogwarts was founded by the four greatest wizards and witches of the era, the continued existence of a magical house was a daunting task. There were cases the descendants would fight over the Lordship or the Heir would not possess the necessary temperament, causing the family magics to reject them. Fearing their Houses might simply cease to exist, the Lords would place several conditions on the inheritance ritual, conditions generally being magical power, affinity for the family magics, blood relation and even deeds being the measure of a person's apparent worth before he or she could rise to the position of Heir Apparent. For instance, Salazar Slytherin was the third of five sons of his father, Lord Atticus Slytherin, and yet, he was chosen to be Lord Slytherin."

Ares paused for a moment, observing the dictation quills scribbling away furiously. Inwardly, he smirked at the reactions his words would soon generate.

"For example, Parseltongue is an ability that has always been a part of the Familial magics of the Slytherin bloodline. However, as I have just stated, it not the _only_ condition necessary to become the _Heir_ _of Slytherin_."

"What were the conditions met in order for you to become the Heir Slytherin, Mister Black?" asked Skeeter, eyeing Ares like a particularly juicy piece of meat.

"Ones that are known only to the Lord and the Heir Apparent, as per the traditions of my House." Ares answered smoothly.

"Mister Black, what about the new-" The rest of the reporter's words went unheard as Ares felt the Black Family magic spike around him. Something had garnered his father's attention, and whatever it was, it had put him on edge.

Shifting slightly, he cast a wandless privacy ward around himself and his father. "What is wrong, Pad?"

Sirius withheld a grimace. Sometimes, he hated his son's sensitivity to the magics around him. Still looking at the swarm before him, he spoke in a low tone of voice, despite the privacy ward around him. "It's the atmosphere… It feels too… charged, like before a raid. It fells just like _that night_ -"

The rest of his words remained unsaid as the swarm of reporters were forcibly thrown aside by a great gust of wind. Ares took a step back and Sirius drew his wand as two men stood before them, wearing the distinct cloak and skull mask. Wands pointed towards the father and son, one of them shouted, "Die, Harry Potter!" and they simultaneously yelled, "Avada Kedavra!"

* * *

Jonathan Greengrass had always been a man of few words. The Lord of the Ancient House of Greengrass had never really known Sirius Black despite their shared years of schooling at Hogwarts, but his wife, Victoria Wilkins Greengrass, had been a close… acquaintance of the man. A chance meeting with the apparently infamous and highly illusive Sirius Black alongside the younger Boy-who-lived during a trip to France was the rather odd start to what was now a strong friendship between the two Lords, their love for their respective families and incredibly fierce protective nature binding the two men far closer than alliance ever could. The years that passed revealed a budding of a sweet relationship between his eldest daughter and Ares Black; it was apparent, even then, that the relationship would blossom into love. Both families had seen the intimacy shared by the teenagers; his wife had already begun planning for a wedding that was years away.

That said, Jonathan knew the boy held many secrets. Ever since their first meeting, the Lord understood Ares Black was not a regular teenager. While most people would say that it was an obvious deduction, he knew better. There was something about the boy that set him apart from his peers, an almost inhuman intelligence dancing in those green eyes. Sometimes, Jonathan feared the boy, wondering what could have turned him into a near-sociopath; he had seen the signs during their visits. When Sirius revealed the status of Ares as the Heir of Slytherin, he was both ecstatic and wary. Living in Britain, he knew what revealing the information would do to the boy and those associated with him. When the Dark Lord – and Jonathan knew it was only a matter of time – and Ares announced his Lordship, the Dark Lord, not to mention his followers, would be baying for his blood.

While he would never wish to step between Ares and his daughter – Daphne would hex him back to Merlin – there were days he wished he had never met the father and son. At the very least, it would prevent the danger surrounding his daughter from escalating.

Case I point, the present situation. Jonathan's eyes widened at the two killing curses streaking towards Ares. Just as he drew his wand to try and protect the boy, the spells were stopped by a wall stone.

* * *

Ares watched transfixed as the two killing curses flew towards him, promising instant Death upon contact. All thoughts of politics, alliances, reporters and Houses flew out of his head. Any thoughts not associated with survival and battle were shoved to the back of his mind. Hardened instincts and trained reflexes took over, his black wand flying into his left hand, arcane spells and ancient forces flooding his mind and magic. He flicked the black wand up, conjuring a wall of stone to intercept the two curses. Ignoring the now ineffective curses, his eyes moved to assess the situation.

The reporters who were shoved aside, crowds milling about the atrium fountain, ministry workers, visitors, several Lords and Ladies and others had begun running towards the ministry Floo's lining the two walls of the entrance corridor and the three apparition points situated at the beginning of said corridor. Unfortunately, the Floo's appeared to have been deactivated and none were able to apparate away.

 _Convenient…_

During the split second it took him to assess the battlefield, save Sirius and Jonathan, everyone behind him had retreated back and to the side, ensuring that no stray curses might strike them should the two men and one teenager dodge.

"Damn it!" replied one of the death eaters, sending another volley of killing curses towards the still steady wall reinforced by a quick _Duro_ cast by Jonathan. At that exact moment, several figures dropped beside the death eaters, holding kukri daggers of fine make.

" _Bloody Black Death…_ "Ares gnashed his teeth, his white wand spinning into his right hand, green eyes glowing in pure rage.

* * *

Daphne watched with wide eyes as her mind recognised the new assailants reinforcing the death eaters. She was assaulted by memories of a battle fought over a year ago, the closest she had ever been to dying.

She knew the Black Death, knew them very well. The most sophisticated assassins in all of Europe, although the term terrorist would be more appropriate. They operated under a dizzying array of secrecy oaths, suicide spells and several degrees of separation between themselves and their contacts. The magical governments of Europe had spent the past few decades trying to the workings of the group with little to no success, their leader being far too elusive and known only by the code name ' _Lazarus_ '.

During the summer after her third year, the Black and Greengrass families were touring the Romanian magical town of Oltenia, when the Black Death attacked the community killing over seventy people. She would have died by a dark severing curse if her sister had not tackled her out of the way. It was also the day she _truly_ realised that she had never really known her boyfriend at all.

"Ares…" She began, before Theo clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Don't," Theo muttered, "you will just distract him from the fight." Still watching the spell fire being exchanged, he began muttering the incantation for a powerful barrier, a set of skills the Nott family were known to possess superlative aptitude for.

Daphne's eyes flashed with rage for a moment before the truth of his words hit her, as she nodded slowly, crouching low and clutching her wand in a bone tight grip.

A few steps away, Albus Dumbledore was waving his wand in fast, intricate patterns, large semi-transparent walls of magic manifesting around the atrium. A flick of his wand sent three of the walls to cover the floo and apparition corridor and another flick quickly arranged the remaining walls to cover any bystanders. "Stay behind the walls!" He used a sonorous to amplify his voice while simultaneously creating two domed shaped barriers around himself and the group of Cornelius, Theo and Daphne, his immense control the only thing keeping the shields and barriers from exploding like balloons.

The people had begun running behind the walls before Dumbledore could even shout his warning, subconsciously trusting the headmaster's magical prowess and skill.

In the middle of the chaos plaguing the atrium, the death eaters, assassins associated with the Black Death and Sirus, Ares and Jonathan stood in battle stances, wands pointed at their opponents.

* * *

His white wand pointed at the assassins, Ares seethed in silent rage, mind conjuring images of torn muscles, obliterated bones, liquefied organs and dismembered bodies. The men were dressed exactly as he remembered – jet black duelling robes of what appeared to be dragon hide, faces hidden masks etched with a white skull etched within a triangle, cruel eyes staring out of thin slits and their primary identifying feature being the kukri daggers they carried, the foci used to cast spells and also imbued with a highly potent venom

Barely focusing on his father and future father-in-law beside him, killing curse eyes glowed with pure hate as he began controlling the flow of magic in his body, pumping the magic into the nervous system and muscles to boost reflexes and agility.

"Walden Bonnevie?" Jonathan whispered, as he glared at the death eater he faced. "What the fuck do you think you are doing!?"

Bonnevie sneered at Lord Greengrass. "This is the reward for those foolish enough to side with the mudblood." His free had indicating Ares, he continued, "He stole our Lord's birth right. For that crime alone, he, his family and all his allies deserve death. You can be happy for dying at our hands. Our Lord will not be so merciful."

Ares continued to ignore everything but the shifts in the attackers as he activated a skill taught by his tutor causing the world around him to move slowly.

 _Extrasensory cognizance._

An incredibly rare and obscure lost to all but the most accomplished of Occlumency masters. It was designed to increase the processing speed of the mind of the practitioner, drastically reducing their reaction time to supernatural levels. As long as the practitioner maintained the highly draining ability, they seemed to move faster while the world around them slowed down.

Mind now running at unnatural speed, Ares loosened his grip on the twin wands as a cruel smirk adorned his lips. _Last time, I let the bastards get away. Not this time. This time, I am going to kill them all._ He flicked his white wand.

And _Hell_ came to the Ministry atrium.

Almost in unison, the three assassins fired one of their characteristic dark severing hex at Ares, a hex he was quite intimate with. Magic flooded out of Ares materialising a bright blue solid shield before him. The shield deflecting the three curses towards the floor as he retaliated.

What followed next could only be described as a true magical battle, three experienced assassins fighting against a lone wizard. The three assassins jumped, weaved and dodged, trying to overwhelm the young wizard with progressively darker spells while dodging the hexes and curses thrown towards them. Two assassins had tried to flank him, only to dodge the stray spells from Sirius and Jonathan. Ares's superior reflexes allowed to weave through most spells, dodge few and shield against the rest. His black wand continued to conjure shields and stone while the white wand launched some of the most destructive spells in his repertoire.

Ares moved to the side, barely dodging an organ pulveriser but a severing hex cut into his leg, severing cloth, skin and muscle. He hissed in pain, eyes changing to slits as the primal self of his animagus, Spectre, took over. A green aura rose from his body and the _intent to kill_ flooded the entire atrium.

* * *

 **Meanwhile in the DMLE…**

Located on the second level below the Ministry Atrium, the entire floor was divided into several sections. The three largest divisions were the Auror division, the Hit Wizard division and the last division comprised of the departmental curse-breakers who were usually brought in during raids on warded buildings and dealing with dark artefacts. Each division was led by a Head of the department and the Heads answered to the Director of the DMLE. Compared to the rest of the ministerial departments, the DMLE was known to be the most organised and efficient of all, a fact which Amelia Bones, Regent of the House of Bones and Director of the DMLE prided herself on.

Hence why the current situation - aurors running around like headless chickens, people shouting at the top of their voices, hit wizards talking to each other holding portkeys – did not sit well with her. Did not sit well at all.

"What's wrong?" She barked, standing at the open door to the Director's office. Her stern tone got through to the entire force in the auror bullpen, many freezing on the spot at the sight of the formidable witch. One of her senior surors, Kingsley Shacklebolt, approached her with swift steps.

"The Floo network is down, Director." Shacklebolt answered. "It seems that the Ministry anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards at full strength. None of our attempts to get through the blocks have succeeded. The senior members believe something must have gone wrong with the ward stones."

Amelia narrowed her eyes. _This is not a coincidence_. Once the surveillance charms had alerted the DMLE of the assassination attempt, aurors and hit wizards had scrambled to reach the atrium. She knew there was no possible way in which all transportation systems on the floor were not working _at the same time_.

"Call the curse-breakers." Amelia ordered.

"But Director, wouldn't that mean tampering with the-"

"Just shut up and do as ordered, Kingsley." barked Amelia. "I will not allow a person to be killed, especially in the heart of the Ministry. Do I make myself clear?" At his nod, she asked, "Did you contact the Department of Transportation?"

"Several patronus messages were sent to the members of the department" Kingsley answered. "No response thus far."

 _Damn it!_ Amelia grit her teeth. _Yaxley? Could it be?_

Mentally berating herself to think faster, she barked out orders to the senior auror. "Kingsley, Call in the best men from the Aurors, Hit Wizards and Curse Breakers. I now declare the situation _Delta-Green_."

Kingsley widened his eyes. _Delta-Green_ was the code employed by the DMLE during times of grave emergency, or a rebellion. It was one of the very few situations which enabled the Director to contravene and supersede existing Ministry regulations for a limited period.

However, once the situation was dealt with, the Director had to face a _Court martial_ before the Chief Warlock and the Minister of Magic, given a single chance to explain herself and provide evidence to corroborate her claims. If the Chief Warlock _and_ the Minister found the evidence to be unsatisfactory, the Director could face anything from a simple resignation to incarceration in Azkaban.

"Have I not made myself clear, Kingsley? Do it, _now_." Amelia spoke slowly, ice coating her words.

Kingsley flinched at the tone but immediately moved to carry out the orders.

Walking into her office, she closed the door behind her. With quick steps, she approached the wall behind her desk, removed her left glove and placed her now free hand on the wall. Closing her eyes, she called on her family magics.

The Ancient House of Bones had always produced excellent Wardmasters. For centuries, the members of the House honed their warding and ward breaking skills, skills that would have made any curse and ward breaker green with envy. However, _family tradition_ demanded that the skills must not be misused or propagated for profit, resulting in every lord, lady and heir practising their skills in private, no matter the incredibly high skill they possessed. It was no coincidence that even Lord Voldemort was unable to break through the wards surrounding Bones Manor.

 _Not that it did any good._ Amelia seethed silently. Calling on the totem, _the Scorpion_ , she let it flow across the wall. A few minutes later, the walls shimmered for a second before lighting up in a multitude of colours visible only to her. She moved the _Scorpion_ through the wards, each one represented by a single colour, analysing the ward scheme to find the one she sought. Ten seconds later, the Scorpion bit on the anti-apparition ward and dragged the strand to the wall, pushing the other wards aside.

"Director," The voice belonged to Rufus Scrimgeour, the Head of the Auror division. She spun back to find ten other men, Aurors and hit-wizards alike, and a single curse-breaker standing behind him in her office. Deciding to berate him later for not knocking on the door, she cleared her throat and said, "The situation is now _Delta-Green_." Ignoring the gasps, she continued, "The Floos are not functioning and we cannot fix them at the moment, and certainly not from the DMLE offices. We need to bring down the anti-apparition ward surrounding the Ministry. I need all of you to fire the Killing curse at this-" A finger pointed to a specific part of the wall. "-point together."

"The killing curse?" Rufus asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Nothing short of that would be able to break through the anti-apparation ward. Do it."

After a second of hesitation, every single wizard in the room spread out and pointed their wands at the part of the wall specified by Director Bones.

" _Now."_ Amelia hissed, as ten voices yelled the same incantation, ten killing curses striking the ward. A wave of magic passed through the room as she felt the ward deactivate.

"APPARATE NOW!" She yelled, apparating alongside the wizards with a silent crack.

* * *

Rita Skeeter had been scared out of her wits during the attack, and the killing curses thrown around did not help her heart. That coupled with the situation and being unable to use her animagus form served to make her angry.

But as she continued to watch the fight from behind the safety of the barriers, Rita realised this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. An attack like this deserved to be embellished. The danger, combined with the Boy-Who-Lived using DARK curses to fight would not just be another juicy story. No! It would serve as a true highlight to her career, and she would be damned if she allowed a grand opportunity to slip through her fingers.

A wicked grin floated across her lips.

* * *

At first, Sirius had been shocked out of his wits when the cloaked figures first appeared. While he was certainly not a seer, his magic had always, always warned of imminent danger. He had anticipated an ambush either before or after the session. He knew the Death Eater organisation would want the heads of him and his son on a pike. What he had _not_ expected, even in his wildest speculations, was the presence of the infamous assassins of the Black Death in the middle of the Ministry atrium.

 _Malfoy…._ The name appeared unbidden in his mind. Once he survived this fight, he was going to tear strips, both verbal and literal, of hide from the man. He and Ares had had the unfortunate providence to meet these _killers_ the previous year. While the fight had been hard, they lived thanks to the Bulgarian battle-mages who fought alongside his family. To his everlasting regret, it was also the first time his son had taken a life. _Forced to take a life._ He mentally corrected himself.

These monsters were the reason why his son had to stain his hands with blood at such a young age.

Sirius let out a vicious growl, the grim inside him enraged at the situation, at the assassins who were obviously after his blood and, more importantly, the fact that his son was facing three of those monsters while he was forced to stay away, fighting his own battle.

 _Damn._

He had been a Senior Auror fifteen years ago, but contrary to what people would think, Sirius Black had not been idle. He had perfected his stance, improved his skill and enhanced his knowledge with a tenacity that would have made Arcturus Black proud. He had spent years training in magical arts and spells he never wished to use. Yet, when faced with these- these… _monsters_ , all that forbidden knowledge was at the forefront of his mind, his wand glowing an angry purple.

The death eater in front of him moved, and so did he. Before his opponent could land the Cruciatus on his person, Sirius _moved_ with supernatural agility, his years of animagus training reinforcing his strength and speed, moving his wand in a wide arc and yelling…

" _Musculus Ruptis."_

* * *

" _Caro lacrimam",_ Ares whispered, his words flowing in Parseltongue, and continued to move in one fluid motion as he uttered his next spell. " _Sanguiniferveo."_

The combination of the flesh-eating curse and the blood-boiler overwhelmed one of the assassins. The man jerked back and his body fell to the floor, although his compatriots had chosen to exploit the opening.

Ares felt a severing hex cut his left arm, flesh torn as precious blood oozed down causing him to hiss in pain. The shock of the attack had rendered his arm temporarily immobile. Feeling his power being siphoned to repair the damage and knowing the fight could not be dragged on, he yelled to the heavens as he cast a curse that he had promised never to use in public. _"Corpus Perdere."_

The curse struck its intended target, the assassin screaming from blinding pain as unnatural black flames engulfed his entire body. Ten seconds later, there was nothing left to say he ever existed beyond the traces of ash on the floor.

"Two done. One to go." Ares sneered, panting in exhaustion and feeling his body move closer and closer to complete exhaustion. An effect of the ritual that he did not truly understand until this moment. The greater the injury, the greater the draw on his magical reserves as his body scrambled to repair the injured cells. The effect was magnified by several orders when the injuries were of Dark origin, and his willingness to throw all his power into the offensive spells did not help matters either. To an outsider, he might just have put down two extremely lethal assassins with powerful curses and still stood on his feet, but he knew that it was only sheer will that kept him from collapsing to the floor.

" _Bloody cause and effect…"_ Ares sneered, his left hand still stiff and hurting, lances of pain hurtling through his nerves as his ritual-fuelled body rushed to repair the wounds.

The third assassin dropped his stance in shock and horror at the fact that a _fifteen-year-old kid_ had just used a _redacted curse_ successfully and was still standing. The two assassins fighting Sirius and Jonathan had been taken off-guard by the demonstration, allowing Jonathan to land a killing blow on the assassin facing him. The other assassin, enraged by the loss of one of their own, and finding Sirius Black slightly distracted, rushed forward to stab the man.

An excruciating scream reverberated through the Ministry atrium.

But the scream did not belong to the target of the dagger. Rather, the scream had originated from the lips of Ares. The young wizard, noticing the dagger flying towards his distracted father, had forced his left arm into the path of the assassin, his magic rushing through his arm to obey his will, causing the dagger to embed itself in his wrist, and a scream erupting from his lips at the pain caused by the wound and venom.

For a mere fraction of a second, the entire atrium stood still.

The first second passed before anyone realised what was happening. Another second passed.

Sirius felt his brain was too sluggish, trying to comprehend the events that had just occurred, the soul-lurching scream of his son still ringing in his ears. By the end of the third second, his eyes focused on the dagger in his son's wrist, blood flowing down the hilt and dripping onto the floor. _Blood._

 _His. Child's. Blood._

The grim took over.

In less than a fraction of a second, Sirius' right hand moved, like it had gained a mind of its own, towards the assassin holding the dagger responsible for his son's blood staining the floor. His hand shifted into a huge paw, a paw of a grim, and literally chopped the head off the assassin from his neck with silver claws, a characteristic that differentiated a grim from a dog.

The severed head fell to the floor, blood sprouting from the neck as it rolled over the stone before coming to a stop.

* * *

The one remaining assassin gaped, at the decapitated form of his fellow teammate, but the maimed hand of Ares Black. The Black Death had a single motto - _Lethal to the very end._ They had procured several toxins and venom from all around the world to create something that would, not just kill, but also rot the victim in a matter of minutes.

But what we saw made him question if the dagger either missed or did not have any venom. Where there had been a gaping hole in a wrist – He could have sworn to it - now lay fresh muscle, the wound regenerating itself at a rapid pace.

 _Impossible…._ He muttered to himself.

"Lacero maximus!" Jonathan intoned, as a wide area severing hex shot towards the last assassin.

The assassin leapt into the air, avoiding the hex, activating a portkey mid-air and disappearing in a blue flash.

The last death eater, leg maimed by Sirius, pointed his wand at Ares and yelled, "Avada-"

"Ossis fragmen."

A powerful bone-breaker flew from the direction of the floos, hitting the fallen Death-eater in his wand hand, pulverising every bone. The man fainted from the overwhelming pain.

The audience finally turned to the point from which the spell originated.

Amelia Bones stood at the main entrance gate, her wand still pointed at the unmoving target. Resting her hand, she walked past the registration desk and towards the fountain beside which the battle had taken place.

Noticing her arrival, Dumbledore let the magical walls and barriers dissipated as did Theo Nott.

Finally, finally, everyone breathed a sigh of relief, many collapsing to the floor.

"None of you are to leave the floor. Unless you need medical attention, you are to stay where you are until an auror has taken your statement." Amelia said in her usual stern, business tone. Turning her attention to the main participants of the attack, she walked forward with quick, sure steps. Standing before them, she said, "Lord Greengrass, Lord Black, Mister… Black."

"Director Bones." Jonathan nodded briskly, holstering his wand and pulling out a handkerchief to wipe the splashes of blood on his fingers. He turned towards Sirius who was on the floor, holding the unconscious form of his son and had yet to look at the new arrivals. His eyes roved over Ares and quickly widened in surprise. Even from a distance, it was distinctly visible that the wound from the dagger's puncture was already sealed by fresh tissue.

 _That cannot be normal…_ He observed. Meanwhile, Daphne ran forward and knelt beside the boy. Ares seemed to have woken up, although the boy looked like he needed a month's worth of bed rest. He watched Theo Nott moved around and collect the two wands of Ares and hide them before anyone could truly look.

Letting the family have their moment, Amelia observed the area around her. There was one decapitated assassin on the floor, his head a few feet way. Another lay dead with rotted flesh and blackened blood. A third lay beyond Lord Greengrass, a wide, deep gash across the torso. There was some ash on the floor which was completely out of place and-

 _Wait._

Her eyes widened at the realisation. She turned back and saw the two unmasked men on the floor, one dead and one barely alive, the latter the recipient of her bone-breaking hex. "Someone will explain what happened here."

"Now Amelia-" Albus Dumbledore interrupted, but Amelia stopped him with a hand gesture. "I will not have any interference in this matter, Headmaster Dumbledore." Turning towards Fudge, she noticed with a silent glee that he was still trembling. Suppressing her mirth, she said, "The Department of Magical transportation did not respond to any summons. I need an arrest warrant against Yaxley to question him, Minister."

"Of - of course, Amelia." Cornelius replied, still shaken at the events that took place in front of his eyes.

Rufus Scrimgeour walked towards Amelia and said, "Director, the team we sent to the Department of Magical Transportation has responded. The entire department was compromised. Eleven of them stunned and bound on the floor, including Yaxley himself. The magical signatures do not match anyone from the Ministry records. The men have secured the floor and are now looking for clues."

 _Damn…_ Amelia cursed. "Very well, I need the entire area cleaned right now. Move all witnesses to the second level and," she gestured towards the three. "Get the bodies picked up and checked for any matches with our records."

Rufus nodded and stepped back, before proceeding to go ahead with the orders.

"Why was the DMLE delayed, Amelia?" Dumbledore questioned. Unlike the genial tone he always used, his voice was now stern, a hint of the man who had fought the Dark Lord Grindelwald.

"The Floo network was down. We had to break the anti-apparation ward, apparate out and then flood in through the outer entrance gate. I had to-" she hesitated for a moment, "-declare the situation _Delta-Green_ to authorise the use of the killing curse."

"We will… discuss about that later Amelia," Fudge answered, his voice still shaken. "Right, I think Misters Black and Lord Greengrass should visit Saint Mungo's immediately. I will arrange-"

"That will not be necessary." Sirius finally spoke up, the remark surprising everyone. "We will just use our own private-"

"I _insist_ , Lord Black." Amelia stressed. "You are in no condition to apparate or portkey, and neither is your son." Recognising the stubborn tilt of his jaw, she decided manipulation would work better. Turning around and facing a visibly angry auror, she said, "Auror Tonks! Get them to Saint Mungo's as fast as possible. I believe your mother, Andromeda, is a healer at the hospital."

Nymphadora quickly nodded her head. "She is."

"Very well, proceed." Amelia dismissed her. "Lord Black, I will require the statements of you and your son as soon as you have recovered. The same from Lord Greengrass. Please send me a note before the sun sets."

Before Sirius could even protest, Nymphadora had walked up to him. "Cousin Sirius." she whispered. "Mum would like to see you, so we must go now."

"But-" Sirius tried to protest, still unable to think clearly.

"Ares needs help, Sirius." Daphne stressed, standing up and trying to get the now conscious Ares to stand up, his right hand over her shoulder. Ares trembled for a moment before getting to his feet and leaning heavily on his girlfriend.

Looking at the condition of his son, Sirius finally gave in.

Nymphadora nodded. "This way."

* * *

"What an entirely unwelcome surprise, Sirius." were the first words that Andromeda Druella Tonks had to say on seeing her lost-estranged cousin standing in front of her, blood splattered over his robes.

Ares still had trouble standing, one arm each over the shoulders of Sirius and Daphne as Nymphadora, Jonathan and Theo stood behind them. The entire group currently stood in the middle of the emergency ward of St. Mungo's.

"What an entirely unsurprising welcome, Andromeda." Sirius drawled in return.

Nymphadora, who was standing behind him, smirked at his pitiful attempt at a comeback. "Well, now that you have exchanged words as family…" She cleared her throat before continuing, "Mom, Ares needs medical attention."

Her daughter's words pierced her vision as Andromeda finally focused on her other cousin. "Right! Get him on the bed. Healer Michaelson!" She all but yelled the name at the end. "You two-" she gestured at Jonathan and Sirius, "should get your wounds checked with Michaelson. Everyone else, OUT!"

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: Finally! A new chapter. Took us quite a bit of time to get this up, mainly because we were distracted and have plans for a new story, which you may or may not see. But no matter what, PEVERELLS has priority. WE WILL FINISH IT!**

 **SEMPER FI!**

 **Now, THANK YOU for the sheer level of response we received for the previous chapter. Neither I nor my co-author expected it. Thank you for appreciating the story, and taking the time to review. Hope you enjoy the upcoming chapters as well.**

 **PeculiarOrphan: Would you be willing to beta the story?**

 **(A special reply from Arcturus Peverell: Let me just tell you that I have a bloody insane posting schedule and leave it to that. if I told you any more than what you already know, you would run away in terror!)**

 **Additions to our Roster:**

 **THORFIN ROWLE – ROD HUNT**

 **MARCUS BULSTRODE – SCOTT CAIN**

 **TIBERIUS ODGEN – CARL REINER**

 **The Show of Today**

 **Xanathar: Behold fleshlings, I am Xanathar. Lord of Waterdeep. There is nothing I do not s-**

 **Hermione: Oh, please. You beholders are all the same. Yammering on about your supposed godhood.**

 **Xanathar: Silence, puny insect. You are a mere bookworm with no imagination whilst I am capable of spinning scores of new plans in the time you read a single line. I cannot be-**

 ***Xanathar kills himself due to a Confundus Charm***

 **Hermione: Barty! How did you do that?**

 **Barty: I managed to confound an ancient magical artefact. That thing can't be any more difficult than that.**

 **Hermione: But that was impossible. Do you have any idea about the spatial-rotation runes, the dilation runes, alteration enchantments, intent wards, highly powerful soul charms, advanced mithril etched futhark letters and hundreds of enchantments coupled with a guardian spirit. There was no way you could possibly confound the cup in the first place.**

 **Barty" Oh! But I did.**

 **Hermione: How?**

 **Barty: Same way you solved all those riddles through the years.**

 **Hermione:** _ **HOW?**_

 **Barty: A Secret Weapon….**

 **Hermione: WHAT. IS. THAT?**

 **Barty: J K R**

 **Hermione: ….. I think I'm going to lie down now.**


	16. Smothered Checkmate

**Two Days after the Wizengamot session.**

Sirius stretched in his seat, his joints creating a ' _pop_ ' sound. Uncaring of the hushed whispers as people passed by, he twisted his neck and continued staring at the door through which his son lay on a sterilized bed surrounded by several potion racks which regularly spelled several fluids straight into his bones and blood stream as runic matrices hung in the air around him, monitoring every single organ, muscle and bone in his body.

Nose itching from the potion and other unidentifiable spells wafting through the hospital corridors, he – again - cast a wide area bubble charm. Bad enough that his son was stuck in the hospital for two days without waking. He did not wish to deal with the smell above that.

A familiar voice drifted into his ears. "Seems that your dislike for hospitals hasn't waned, Sirius. I'm honestly surprised that your sensitive nose hasn't fallen off your mangy face."

Sirius turned to find the source of the voice drop into the chair next to him. Frowning at her haggard look, he asked, "I distinctly remember you having to pull duty for another twelve hours, Healer Tonks."

Andromeda shrugged in response to the cold welcome. "Managed to rope a colleague into pulling that shift by owing him a favour."

Sirius blinked at his cousin. This was not the same woman who had spent the past two days, since his arrival at the hospital, treating him like a total stranger except in cases where Ares's treatment was involved. Ignoring her distasteful tone regarding her colleague, he said, "You've been avoiding me for the past two days, _Tonks_."

Andromeda shot a glare at her cousin. "Did you lose your memory, Sirius? I remember, vividly, speaking to you for over an hour yesterday. In fact, we have been in regular contact ever since my nephew arrived at the hospital in a condition that would kill most grown men and his mangy mutt of a father was just short of collapsing on the floor."

Sirius glared. "I believe you're neglecting to mention the cold shoulder treatment you've been giving me, _Andromeda_."

"Did you expect me to roll out a big banquet?" Andromeda asked, her tone gaining heat with every word. "You disappeared for over a decade, you mutt. I did not receive a single letter in that period nor did you deign to Floo call. What did you expect?"

"At the very least, a ' _Hello_ '." Sirius muttered, unable to sufficiently retort her words.

Andromeda snorted. "I really hope you did not pass your naiveté to my nephew."

Sirius scowled at her. For her part, the witch stared at the healers and visitors walking past them.

Turning to face the door again, Sirius asked, "How is Ares?"

Andromeda glanced at her cousin. "You still suck at subtlety, Sirius." Sighing, she cast several privacy and anti-eavesdropping spells around the two chairs holding herself and her cousin. "He's still healing."

Sirius growled at his cousin. "That's what you've been telling me for two days. I'd like an actual answer, Andromeda. I have no idea what's wrong with my son except that he hasn't woken up since evening the day before. You and the rest of your colleagues are driving me mad with your silence. How difficult is it for you people to understand that I just want to know if _my son_ is alright?"

Andromeda blinked at the sight of a Sirius close-to-ripping-his-hair. While the attitude was not a complete contrast to his time at Hogwarts and during his duties as an auror, it was surprising in terms of context. "I'm surprised, Sirius. I honestly expected you to lose your manners the day Ares was admitted." A smile, one of amusement, rose on her lips. "It seems you can teach an old dog new tricks."

Watching Sirius about to explode, she cut him off with her next words. "He's not alright." Her cousin recoiled at the edge in her tone. " _He was struck by a poisoned dagger_ , Sirius. A dagger wielded by a member of the _Black Death_ , assassins responsible for several high profile killings over the past thirty years."

Sighing in exasperation, Andromeda leaned her back to the wall and tried to rub the exhaustion out of her eyes as her entire posture crumpled.

For the first time since the conversation since the conversation started, Sirius noticed the state of his cousin. Stains of what he assumed were various fluids coated the front of her white healer robes and, with a start, he recognized the majority of the stains were a deep crimson, a colour he recognized. _Blood._ Her usually pristine hair, tied in a bun, appeared frazzled, like she had been repeatedly tugging at the strands. The bags under her eyes looked prominent, a feature he knew was only a result of long term lack of sleep combined with heavy work. Her entire posture radiated an aura of one who wished for nothing more than the warm comfort of their bed.

Deciding to err on the side of caution, Sirius asked, " _Andi_ ," His cousin shot him a curious look at the use of her nickname. "When was the last time you got any rest?"

"Thirty-six hours ago." "Too much work to do, Sirius. Not to mention, my nephew has yet to wake up from his beauty sleep. There's a lot of work left to do… the problem is I do not know the right answer to the puzzle before me."

"Puzzle?" Sirius asked, quite _puzzled_ about Andromeda's reaction to Ares lying on a hospital bed. "My son is not a puzzle, Andi. He's been sitting there fighting poison for the better part of two days and you're telling me it's a puzzle."

Andromeda shook her head. "Before you get the answers you need, I would like some of my own." As Sirius opened his mouth to respond, she interrupted him. "For Merlin's sake, Sirius, you knowing the status of Ares's vitals won't help him at the moment. Now, answer my questions first."

Seeing her cousin close his mouth with an angry scowl, Andromeda smiled. "Why did you choose to antagonize the entirety of the Wizengamot on your first week back in the country? And if you tell me it's because you wanted to pull a _prank_ ," She sneered, "I _will_ pour a gallon of shrinking potion down your pants."

Andromeda sighed on recognizing the look of panic and guilt on Sirius. " _Merlin!_ Are you really that daft, Sirius?"

"Hey!" Sirius was indignant. He was not daft. Just a man who appreciated beauty. Sadly, no one, not even Ares, understood that.

"Did you really think that an _explosive start_ to your first week in Britain was the best introduction you could give?"

"It's not my fault the old codgers passed the law that forced my son to attend school in the one country whose Dark Lord is specifically targeting him." Sirius really, really wished he could put his wand to use against the bastards. "He never wanted to come back here, Andi. He wanted to explore the world, see more sights and learn magic from every corner of the world. Before that stupid law came into being, Ares was looking into joining the– the– I can't remember the word… some priests in South America who specialize in transmutation. And these–"

"And they interrupted your plans to never return, so you and Ares decided to teach them a lesson." Andromeda gave an exasperated sigh. "For Merlin's sake, Sirius, did you ever stop to think about the consequences of your actions? You-Know-Who is out there, right now, probably thinking to eliminate Ares in the very room he now sleeps in… Did you ever consider, for a moment, that you might be putting not just yourself, but your son in danger as well?"

Sirius scowled.

Andromeda snorted. "I have never once reckoned that the current Lord Black might be so short-sighted. I did laugh myself silly at that move you pulled with Lucius and the rest of the Wizengamot members. Were the favors your idea?"

Sirius shook his head in amusement. Andromeda's accusations of danger and neglect were still playing in his ears. _Maybe I should have considered the plan far more carefully…_ "No. I did have several plans to enact at the end, many of which would have seen Lucius and his ilk far more humiliated," He ignored Andromeda's snort, "than they were at Ares's hands. I was this close to declaring them blood-traitors. It would have been extremely fun to see the bastards on the same level as the Weasleys. Lucius would have died of excessive pride." If his suspicions about the assassins were right, Sirius would _personally_ ensure that Lucius broke his neck on the stairs of his _own manor_. "Ares convinced me otherwise, said it would be bad form to start with a move that only a Gryffindor like me would pull."

"Yes, and I for one, agree with my nephew. Do you seriously think that it was a good idea? For Merlin's sake, Sirius, you are not in school anymore. This is not like your days as a Marauder when you could just prank anyone in the hallways you disliked. You're a grown up responsible for the care of a child. Start acting your age."

"Hey! I resent that."

"Continue resenting it. But you are no longer going to pull such stunts again. I certainly won't be patching you up if you decide to get yourself blown up in some freak attack."

"I do not get myself blown up in freak attacks! What do you think I am?"

"A kid trying to act like a grown man." Andromeda deadpanned. "And it seems to me that you have, through means unknown, managed to pass on your childish and vindictive tendencies to my nephew." Her lips twisted in amusement. "I would pay a million just to watch Lily's reaction to that piece of trivia from the afterlife."

Sirius paled at the thought. Lily would find an extremely creative way to torture him, he knew she would. Mary Anne had yet to recover from the revenge Lily enacted when the Hufflepuff had managed to dye all her books in slime.

Andromeda's amusement grew inversely to Sirius's skin tone. "Of course, that would be after James got his hands on you. I'm certain that his experience in pranks would be quite the _asset_."

Sirius went so pale that Andromeda wondered if the man suffered a stroke.

 _Merlin! James was going to kill him. Lily too. After the duo had put through a round of torture. Or ten._

Andromeda patted Sirius on the back. "Just remember to curb your overly developed tendency to cause mischief and everything will be alright."

Sirius deflated and nodded his consent.

Satisfied for the moment, Andromeda relaxed in the small hospital chair. Rubbing her eyes due to exhaustion, she pulled out a small rectangular box from the pocket of her robe with her left hand.

Sirius stared at his cousin and groaned. "I really wish you'd get rid of that habit of yours, Andi."

Andromeda glanced at Sirius and placed a cigarette between her lips and returned the packet to the pocket in which it was situated. Snapping the index finger and thumb of her right hand to create a small flame, she lit her cigarette and extinguished the flame by snapping her fingers again.

Sirius blinked at the action. "When did you learn to perform wandless magic?"

Removing the cigarette using the middle and index fingers of her left hand, Andromeda blew out a stream of smoke. The smoke curled through the air and vanished after coming in contact with the privacy wards surrounding the two cousins. "It's been years since I learnt that trick, Sirius. And stop scowling. It demeans the Lord Black."

Sirius's back hit the wall as he leaned in his chair. Watching the passing healers direct glares towards the witch sitting next to him, he turned towards Andromeda. "I'm guessing your colleagues are not big fans of your disgusting habit." It was not a question.

Andromeda chuckled after blowing out another stream of smoke. "No, they are not. In fact, I've received several complaints and _suggestions_ to stop smoking. Since I was not willing to give up my habit and my colleagues kept pestering me to, at the very least, try and prevent my habit from affecting anyone else, I made a decision. I created a modified spell. A vanishing charm tied into the privacy ward around us, one specifically targeted at smoke. Behind the ward, I can smoke as many as I please without getting inundated by the vapours or bothering the _extremely sensitive_ noses of my colleagues."

Sirius chuckled. "Honestly, Andi, can you not just quit? It is harmful to your health. Ever hear of all those diseases that cigarettes are supposed to cause?"

"I'm surprised you even read such books, Sirius. Do you actually have the time for such matters when you keep chasing after every skirt you catch a whiff of?" Ignoring her cousin's glare, Andromeda explained, "Witches and wizards are not affected by those diseases. The damage caused by smoking cigarettes is miniscule enough that the magic in our bodies can quickly fix the issue before it turns into a serious hazard. Unless, I decide to smoke a carton every day or get cursed by some idiot with a grudge against me, I will live a long and healthy life."

Sirius sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I think I went along with your 'Humour and handle' program long enough, Andi. Now, tell me about how Ares is holding up."

Andromeda blew out a thin stream of smoke. "What do you know about cellular regeneration, Sirius?"

Sirius looked at Andromeda, confusion swimming in his eyes. "What I learned from you, Andi."

Andromeda rubbed her forehead, a scowl on her face. "Immune systems?"

The space between Sirius eyebrows furrowed at the unexpected questions. Confusion deepening, he said, "Again, as much as you taught me, Andi. I was never going to be a healer and did not see the need to broaden my knowledge on the subject."

Andromeda glared at her cousin, looking for any trace of deception.

A few moments passed in silence as healers and patients who walked by the seated pair wondered if a fight would begin in the hallway.

Finally satisfied that Sirius Black _was_ telling the truth, Andromeda relaxed in her chair and took a quick puff of smoke. "I'll keep it simple. Every time our bodies sustain physical damage, the cells around and within the affected area begin multiplying to fix the damage until the skin, muscle or bone is well and truly healed. While we cannot regenerate limbs, any superficial injuries can be healed without even a trace of scar tissue. Witches and Wizards, thanks to the magic present in our bodies, heal at three times the rate of a muggle, and the process is only expedited by the potions and salves us healers apply."

"Poisons, by default, are extremely vicious chemical compounds that are designed to deal death to the affected patient. In those cases, even our bodies - with all our perks and connection to magic - require neutralizing potions or anti-venom to prevent the witch or wizard from taking a journey into our equivalent of the afterlife. In fact, I have seen, and heard of, cases where many witches and wizards died in less than two minutes due to the delay in administering the counter."

"I admit I was at fault for the slight delay in administering treatment to you and Ares when you arrived here after what I now know was a short but vicious fight with the Black Death. However, it turns out my worry for all for naught."

Turning to fully face the cousin she had not seen or heard from in years, Andromeda spoke in a casual tone, her curiosity betrayed by the eager look in red eyes. "Did you know that all the injuries inflicted on Ares were healed? _Completely healed_. As in, he was ' _not even involved in the fight kind of healed_ '. If I did not find the poison in his blood stream, the one specifically tied to _that particular brand_ , I would have taught you were pulling my leg."

Sirius was taken aback due to Andromeda's words. "…What are you talking about, Andi? I don't understand. Ares was injured. He took a knife through his arm. _I saw him take the knife through his arm._ There is no way he-"

Andromeda interrupted Sirius before he could really gain steam. "I know, Sirius! Yes, I agree he was injured _and_ poisoned. But outwardly, he was fine. Any and all injuries were completely healed _without_ my intervention. The only point that demanded my attention was the poison coursing through him."

Sirius clenched his fist in anger. "If he is _perfectly fine_ , why is he still asleep?"

Andromeda took another drag of smoke. "I never said he was fine, Sirius. I merely informed you he has fully recovered from his outward injuries." Holding up her right hand to ward off any further questions, she said, "Before we discuss his unnatural healing, let me give you a full report of everything that occurred since he first entered the hospital to this minute."

Watching Sirius nod in reluctance, Andromeda began her report. "After you and Ares arrived at the hospital, me and the two Medi-wizards assigned to me quickly moved Ares to a private room. I began the entire set of tests performed on one involved in a battle with dark wizards."

"The results were quite startling. Mentally, he was fine. There were no signs of high-powered Legilimency attacks, occlumentic shield degradation, compulsions, mind-altering charms or behavioural-modification spells. We usually run such tests on kidnap victims or hostages… but I wanted to be sure, especially after I knew _assassins_ were involved."

"Physically…" Andromeda sighed. Taking one last puff of her cigarette, she vanished the remainder with a wave of her wand. "I did not understand what was happening to him." She stared at her cousin with not a little amount of anger. "Scans showed us that his magic was preying on himself, Sirius. Ares's magic was preying on his _own body, his own tissues, nerves and everything_. Don't worry." She added, watching the panic on Sirius's face which answered some of her questions but lead to even more, each one more outlandish than the last.

"I deleted the records. None but I know the full results of the examination." Andromeda watched as Sirius deflated in relief. "After I deemed his mind was intact and free of outside influence, I decided to begin treatment on his injuries while one of my assistant Medi-wizards prepped the anti-venom treatment that was par the course for any patient who came in contact with the blades used by assassins in general. When my assistants began transferring the anti-venom into his blood, I was shocked at the state of his body."

Andromeda's voice held both awe and a sense of disquiet. "Every single injury he sustained had completely healed, Sirius. All of them. If I didn't know better, I'd say, he never fought in a battle." Her hand unconsciously coiled into a fist before it relaxed. "So, Sirius, what exactly has my _nephew_ been up to?"

Watching the anger, confusion and annoyance run through Sirius's face, Andromeda sighed. She really wanted another smoke but Ted was getting on her case about having too many and Nymphadora would not let her hear the end of it if her father decided to go on a long winded rant he called an intervention. "You don't know, do you? Hmm… Looks like _he_ has a few secrets of his own."

Sirius really, really wanted to put his fist through a face at the moment. Dumbledore's preferably. "When he gets out of the hospital, I am going to- to-"

"Do nothing." Andromeda blew on her nails. "Your primitive displays of anger will only beget no answers." She glanced at her cousin when he released a low growl. "Does Ares respond better to anger or reasoned arguments?"

Sirius did not deign to argue the point for he knew the right answer. But the only place Ares could have probably did what he did to his body was-

"Stop thinking, Sirius. You will hurt yourself."

 _"Andi!"_

Andromeda's lips twitched in amusement. "You cannot go around berating him for what he has already done. The ritual he performed saved his life. You can't argue that is dangerous when it appears that he successfully executed it." She gestured towards the door leading to Ares's room. "Teenagers are in a rebellious phase, Sirius. You should know that better than most, considering your own behaviour at that particular age."

"What's with all the parenting advice?" Sirius wanted to know why Andromeda would offer him advice after two days of giving him the cold shoulder.

"Because I do not want you to screw up your relationship with my nephew because of your immaturity." Andromeda gave up her inner battle and drew another cigarette. "Besides, Aunt Cassiopeia will take care of the berating."

Sirius stared at Andromeda, eyes wide with shock. "You're in contact with her!?"

"No. I'm talking about a flubberworm named Jessie." Andromeda's voice was mocking.

Sirius winced at the tone. "I just didn't know that Aunt Cassie was talking to you."

"I am disowned, not dead." Andromeda took a deep whiff of her cigarette and released a stream of smoke. "We meet every few months to exchange stories over a nice meal. And no, she did not tell me where you and Ares were living. But she did share quite a few stories that put Nymphadora in stitches."

Sirius knew very well the list of stories that Cassiopeia could share to generate laughs. As great as Ares's talent was at magic, he had an even greater talent at creating some ridiculous situations that he would never forget. The Costume Incident had driven everyone except Ares into a laughing fit. "Aunt Cassie going to have fun ripping strips out of Ares."

Andromeda raised an eyebrow. "In case you forgot, Sirius, Let me remind you he is your son."

"I know." Sirius was positively gleeful. "But since I can't be angry with him, she can. And I will enjoy every second of it."

Andromeda took another whiff of her cigarette and wondered if all the members of her family eventually went insane. _Poor Ted. He's missing out on the experience._

* * *

 **September 25 1995.**

"If memory serves correctly – and I assure you mine does - the House of Black requested your services to teach Ares the discipline of ward-crafting." Sirius stated coolly, his eyes fixed on the unnaturally beautiful woman moving her hands over an unconscious Ares in some kind of dance, manicured fingers glowing with a fine sheen of magic.

Perenelle snapped her neck towards Sirius, eyes ice cold. "I certainly remember our oath being along the lines of teaching your son and Heir everything he needed or asked. My only objective, as our contract states, was to satiate his thirst for magical knowledge. If your son is incapacitated, it is because of your decision to…" She paused for a moment, "pull a prank on the unsuspecting imbeciles of Wizarding Britain."

Sirius gritted his teeth due to the fact that he could not refute the statement. Clearing his throat, he spoke with a measured voice. _No need to antagonise an extremely old and very powerful witch._ "I am blaming you for the attack on my son, Lady Flamel. I am merely raising my concerns regarding the knowledge you are imparting to my son." He licked his lips and considered his words. "It has been brought to my knowledge that you have taken him in as your apprentice."

"I did." Perenelle answered, her fingers performing the last set of spells necessary to purge the impurities from the boy's system.

"Without the express permission of the Lord of his House who also happens to be his father?"

"I did."

"With the full knowledge that binding the Heir of a Most Ancient House into a contract without his Lord's permission is an offence punishable by prison or worse?"

Perenelle stared at steel grey eyes without fear. "The House of Flamel might not be a Most Ancient or even an Ancient House by modern standards, Lord Black. However, do not consider looking down upon my own knowledge of the Ancient laws and treatises."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Your actions betray your apparent knowledge then, since by your very commitment-"

"Ares James, the Head and soon to be Lord of House Slytherin formed an apprenticeship contract with me to learn of anything he wished to within the spheres of my expertise. The contract I had with you, Lord Black and the apprenticeship contract of Ares Black, Head of House Slytherin are _independent_ and _mutually exclusive_. And do not lie to me"

Sirius tightened his fists. "And may I know the clauses of this contract?"

"While I do have the privilege of telling you it is not your business," Perenelle returned derisively, "I do not wish to engender bad blood between us." She paused for a moment. "In return for my services, Ares has sworn to perform one single favour for me. That favour does not cause - or give cause to - harm Ares magically, physically or emotionally."

Sirius stood like a stone, drawing on his not inconsiderable mental resources to map dozens of choices and paths, ideas being drawn and discarded quickly but he soon gave up the effort. He could not determine her agenda with such vague information. In fact, he would do no better with no information at all. In hindsight, he should have been more proactive and taken note of the ease of securing her services in the first place.

"Lady Flamel…" Sirius began hotly.

"If it is your intention to try to issue threats, I would thank you if you refrained from such. All your resources, stature and power mean little to me." Perenelle snapped, interrupting him midway. "The best things in life are often… _priceless,_ would not you agree, Lord Black?"

Sirius opened his mouth to say something, but then thought the better of it.

"No matter what you think of me, you may be assured of one single detail." Perenelle spoke with a softer tone. "I do not possess any… _sinister_ intentions towards your son. He is an excellent student, if a little precocious at times."

Sirius had to agree with her assessment of Ares. Still, he would try to ascertain any information he could on Perenelle Flamel's goals or motivations.

The lady was not yet done with her lecture. "To the best to my knowledge, you have been training your son to prevent his Slytherin heritage from consuming him, a defensive approach that suits your disposition. Contradictorily, your son seeks to master the power trying to take him over and does not limit himself from pursing the avenues necessary to attain control over the magics he contains."

"Rituals." Sirius breathed sharply.

"An inadequate description that tells little." Perenelle waved her hand dismissively. "Coincidence or destiny, it matters not. The blood of three Great Houses have joined together in the Child of a Prophecy… Ares James Black. He's not looking to survive, Lord Black. He's going to _thrive_. The Family Magics will ensure he moves on the optimal path."

Sirius felt a cold shudder down his spine, wondering if the consequences he had wrought from his decisions were good or bad. According to Arcturus, a Lord of a House was influenced by the Family Magic, the effect compounding for older Houses whose Magic's have developed over centuries. With three such Magics fused into a young boy whose very existence was mutilated by ritual and soul magic…

He shook his head to perish the thought before it could proceed to completion.

"Are you…?" Sirius's voice broke. "Is Ares going to…? Will he be himself?"

Perenelle smiled predatorily. "I am not a _seer_ , Lord Black. However, I do understand that destiny is always… paid in blood."

* * *

The first sensation Ares felt upon opening his eyes was a blinding sensation that made him close his eyes quickly to stave off the migraine. Taking a few moments to recover, and hearing sound of voices in his vicinity, he very carefully and slowly opened his eyes to allow them to better adjust to the ambient light. Halfway through the exercise, he realised – in muted horror – that the two voices – he could finally distinguish them – belonged to his father and _Shit!_ his Master and they were engaged in a rather _heated_ argument.

Closing his eyes, Ares did his best impression of a man drugged with the Draught of Living Death, listening to the angry tone of his father and hints of amusement he could pick from Perenelle's voice. His anxiety brewed at hearing two of the most important people of his life getting into a heated debate over him.

He had come to cherish the few people in his life and, despite the tortures he was put through, Perenelle had become one of his most treasured bonds. He did not wish for a rift between her and his father.

"Is Ares going to…? Will he be himself?" It hurt Ares to hear the sadness in Pad's voice. The fact that he had to hide from his father was not a happy thought, but some things just had to be done.

He awaited with baited breath as Perenelle gave her reply.

"I am not a seer, Lord Black. However, I do understand that destiny is always paid in blood."

Whatever Ares had been expecting, that was not it. And the tone in which she spoke… He had only heard Perenelle Flamel use it once before. It was years ago, when he had finally managed to annoy – ahem, _persuade_ her into talking about her family.

" _My husband betrayed him and my family had to pay the price. It was then I realised what people truly were; they would always,_ _always_ _care about themselves, regardless of the cost paid by others. My_ _cynicism_ _, as you like it keep harping about, has helped me survive the centuries, Heir Black."_

Ares heard the sound of a door opening and closing as a single set of footsteps walked away.

"Your father has left us. You can stop pretending to be asleep now."

The unexpected words from his irate Master snapped Ares out of his musings. He opened his eyes to find Perenelle Flamel staring at him with a snarky expression. He was hard pressed to call the expression ugly as her ethereal beauty made her look like the most beautiful of sights. It would have been even better if those eyes were not glaring daggers at him for his thoughts.

"Um… hey!"

Perenelle's countenance shifted into a deep scowl. "I have thirty-seven diagnostic spells on your person. Did you _really believe_ that I wouldn't realize you're awake?"

"Um…. No?" Ares hemmed.

Perenelle smiled and Ares suddenly wished he was _very_ far away. "You have slept long enough. It is time you start explaining why you cast a _Redacted Curse_ and also what idiotic line of thought led you believe the best way to stop a _poisoned dagger_ was by using your own flesh."

Ares opened his mouth, and closed it. Thinking and rejecting the first five automatic excuse- ahem… _prim and proper reasons,_ he decided to go with the one that had the highest probability of allowing him to escape a long drawn and _painful_ death at the hands of his clearly irate Master.

He opened his mouth and spoke with a nonchalance he did not feel. "Let's face it. This isn't the worst thing you've caught me doing."

* * *

 **Meanwhile at Hogwarts.**

"I will kill him." Daphne declared. "I'm going to stuff his wand up his arse."

"Uh, Daph?" Tracey tried to calm her angry friend who was currently pacing across her dorm room. "He was already near dead. Don't you think your reaction is a far too-" She did not finish the statement due to the dragon-like glare being aimed at her.

"When I get my hands on him, he's going to wish he was dead." Daphne continued, radiating an aura of murderous intent.

Blaise and Theo - lounging on the empty beds - were amused at the display. It seemed that Ares Black had a particular proclivity for breaking the stoic mask of her friend. Then again, it could not be denied that ever since Ares had begun attending the school, there had been a near-constant source of entertainment.

"Did your… mum send any information about it?" Theo lowered his voice to ensure Blaise alone heard the question.

On Blaise's expression of inquiry, Theo elaborated, "My father was curious. It's not every day a teenager survives an assassination attempt by the most dangerous organisation on the planet.

"I am not the least bit insulted." Blaise scowled. "Why don't you continue, Theo? I'm sure you've got a word or two lying around yet."

Theo chortled. The House of Zabini did not descend from nobility. Contrary to the origins of most Houses, the Zabini's began as a private mercenary force. Today, they were one of the largest private contractors on either side of the Statue of Secrecy, owning a massive conglomerate of assassins, mercenaries and bounty hunters. In collaboration with the Most Ancient House of Selwyn, House Zabini was almost, if not more, feared by the masses than other Nobles Houses and held greater respect. It was one of the many reasons even Draco Malfoy, in all his arrogance, did not even interact with the _affable teen_ of House Zabini.

"Apologies." Theo continued chuckling. "I forgot you were nothing but a _flower-loving pacifist_ who has a crush on a muggle-born."

Blaise narrowed his eyes but as Theo continued chuckling, he gave up with a sigh. "Mother is interested. According to her, Ares should not be alive at the moment or even healed to the degree he was when we visited him yesterday. She _says_ that the only thing that can grant such rejuvenation would be along the lines of the Philosopher's Stone and Ares is not Nicholas Flamel."

The two boys spun around as the sound of falling glass attracted their attention.

A glass of water had slipped from Daphne's hand which Tracey was now vanishing away with several flicks of her wand. If not for the shadow over her face, Blaise would not have given it further consideration.

"Anything you wish to share, Daphne?" Blaise asked with a casual tone, as Tracey vanished the last of the broken glass.

Theo raised his eyebrows.

"Huh?" Daphne replied eloquently. "No, it is probably nothing."

"Sure." Blaise drawled.

* * *

 **Back at Black Manor...**

"Where… am I, exactly?" Ares asked as he took in the surroundings. At first sight, it looked like some kind of hospital, although the architecture seemed vaguely familiar, a mixture of gothic and modern with the entire room painted a crystal pure white.

Perenelle looked amused. "One would think you had gone senile, Ares. Surely you can recognise your own house?"

Ares gaped.

Perenelle snorted. "When I asked your father to move you to a private room with a list of supplies, he prepared this." She gestured towards the room. "I believe his exact words were ' _Now it looks like a proper hospital_ '."

Ares's scrunched his face at the words. It was exactly like Pad to do something like this. He tried to get up but felt Perenelle push him down.

"Rest until your muscles no longer protest. I will not have you dallying a second longer than necessary."

Ares grumbled but acquiesced as he could feel the pain radiating from his muscles. However, the pain gave him a clarity of thought which allowed him to make a startlingly realization. Looking at Perenelle, he said, "You've never visited Black Manor before." He had extended several invitations to his master only to be gently or rudely rebuffed. Perenelle stared at him like he was denser than iron.

"You are my investment, Ares Black. I will not have you dying until you have fulfilled the favour you owe me."

Ares smiled. "It's okay, you know." At Perenelle's confusion, he clarified. "It's okay to drop your _I-don't-care –about-people_ façade from time to time. I am thankful for everything you have done for me _and_ I trust you completely."

Perenelle beamed and Ares sucked his breath. It was a smile that made flowers bloom. A thing of beauty, really.

 _Then why, why do I get the feeling of about to get chewed by a hungry dragon?_

"Despite your saccharine words, Ares, you are not escaping your punishment." Perenelle replied, her lips still holding up the fake smile on her face.

Ares's face scrunched in frustration. "Oh _come on!_ You could have at least _pretended_ it worked a little."

Perenelle's lips twisted in amusement. "When I told you that the effects of the ritual were deeper than superficial changes, I did not, in any manner, encourage you to enter mortal combat, get poisoned and stabbed to test the ritual's effectiveness. The only reason you fully recovered is because you received treatment immediately."

Ares looked confused. "Shouldn't my body now take care of those things _without_ outside intervention?"

Perenelle gave a hard stare. "In time and with help from your magic, yes. However, you lost your self-control, relied heavily on _Extrasensory Cognizance_ , utilised a highly dangerous _Redacted Curse_ and fought like a berserker, throwing your magic around like fireworks. You could not have done a worse impression of one I consider my apprentice."

Ares looked away, unable to find anything to refute her words. Perenelle's disappointment always felt like a knife through his heart.

"You are stronger than most adults, Ares. However, that does not mean you are capable of facing experienced assassins in a field of battle prepared to their comfort. I find it highly disappointing you forgot the basics."

Ares hung his head. "I'm sorry, Madame Flamel."

"Look me in the eye." Perenelle's voice was firm. "You are a descendant of the Great House of Slytherin. Even in the face of failure, your head _must_ be held high." Once the boy turned to look her in the eyes, she asked, "Educate me, Ares. Why did you use your arm to block a dagger?"

Ares scowled. "I was being stupid. By the time I saw the dagger, I was running dry and knew I couldn't put up a shield in time. So, I just… reacted."

"Pathetic." Perenelle shook her head though her expression remained neutral. "You should know that the healers put you in Healing Stasis for two days."

"What? Why?" Ares questioned, standing up. "My body should have-"

"It would not have." Perenelle interrupted. "In fact, if not for the stasis, you would be bedridden for months, unable to use _any_ magic." She paused at the horrified expression received. "Tell me, Ares, if you consumed your own hand, do you think your body would accept the offering and regrow the arm?"

Ares jumped.

"You confessed that you were running low on magic when you were stabbed with that poisoned dagger, poison potent enough to kill an individual in minutes. Even a timely dose of the required anti-venom might not have saved your life. Your body did not have the necessary fuel to begin fixing the damage, especially with your immune system a near wreck."

"My body began feeding on itself?" Ares asked with a shallow breath.

Perenelle regarded him with a sharp look that caused Ares to flinch. "It would have. Fortunately, the medical stasis delayed your rejuvenation ability long enough for the healers to cleanse your system of the poison. With the complement of potions induced into your bloodstream and your reserves gathered over two days, your body gained the fuel necessary to fuel your ability to revitalize you completely. Do not expect _invincibility_ from a single ritual, Ares. Not even those who performed dozens are immune to harm."

Ares let out a long breath, thankful that the situation hadn't turned out to be worse.

"As I believe I have previously mentioned, your tendency to jump to conclusions without thought will someday lead you to ruin, Ares Black."

Ares didn't reply.

"Also," Perenelle stated, her tone shifting to one of amusement. "I find myself remembering of the _Slytherin family_ being quite… _averse_ to promoting _muggleborn_ influx into their territory?"

Ares was just standing there, trying to do his best nonchalant expression (and failing dismally).

"Then again," Perenelle continued. "Considering the… _mundane apprehension_ towards the disciplines of rituals and other esoteric arts, it was perhaps for the best. So imagine how surprised I was, on reading that _Salazar Slytherin_ wrote in his _grimoire,_ especially about his… _love_ for muggleborns."

Ares grinned shamelessly. "Ah well, about that… you know it, I know it, but the rest of the world doesn't. It's really unfortunate that ole Salazar decided to write his grimoire in a language undecipherable to everyone save those of his blood."

Perenelle rolled her eyes.

* * *

 **Somewhere in Munich.**

The one they called _Janus_ walked through the shadowy corridors, his mind busy with the recent actions of his organisation. Three days ago, four of his assassins had been hired by one Walden Macnair from the British Isles. Four of _his men,_ along with two junior Death eaters - he almost snorted at the high and mighty name those _crooks_ called themselves - to assassinate one Sirius Black and his son, the reclusive and singularly interesting _Harry Potter_ \- a fact that had greatly displeased him, especially when his _subordinate_ took the action without informing him.

 _That fool Lazarus must have thought he would be able to end the Black line for once and for all._

Janus had been the one to find the struggling child on the streets. He had seen the potential in the dirty waif, taken him in and groomed him to become a deadly, powerful and ruthless individual who the world feared as the Leader of the Black Death Organisation.

Lazarus.

Janus considered it to be an effective move in keeping the governments in the dark. Lazarus would serve as an effective public face and act as the leader of the organisation while he could focus on other matters.

Janus was not a foolish individual. He had taken several steps to ensure that Lazarus could never, ever betray him.

 _But I could not take away his grudge against the Blacks, did I?_ Janus gritted his teeth at that failure. Years of patience had given Lazarus the perfect chance to kill the Lord Black and he had seized the opportunity with all the haste of a youth.

 _Foolish child._

"Lord Janus."

The assassin kneeled and bowed his head as Janus took his seat on the throne. He appraised the assassin kneeling before him.

"You failed."

The assassin was silent though Janus could spot his hand twitch.

 _In fear or shame?_

"Three of my best defeated and killed by the actions of a single child, and you have returned by fleeing like a shameless dog."

The prostrated assassin did not utter a word.

"That pales next to your arrogance in ignoring my commands to leave the Blacks alone."

"Lord Lazarus-" The assassin began in a voice that barely trembled but was quickly interrupted.

"Will get his due." Janus snarled. "Lazarus, in his short-sightedness, ignored my mandate to never involve our organisation in matters that concerned the Isles."

The assassin did not dare to refute.

"That said, the attempt was not a complete loss."

The man lifted his head. "My Lord?"

"The boy…." Janus whispered. "He survived… he survived _our venom_ and according to reports, left the hospital without a scratch on his person. Regeneration at such levels has not been seen since that idiotic child Voldemort returned with the body of a homunculus. However, the boy differs in that his body was not an artificial monstrosity." He licked his lips like he was tasting a delightful meal. "Such advanced prowess in ritualistic magic is no mere achievement."

"You surmise that Black had the boy study _rituals_?" The assassin questioned with not a little trepidation.

"Undoubtedly." Janus declared. "The boy's knowledge of a Redacted Curse too…. Very interesting indeed."

The assassin could admit he had been shocked and, to a certain extent, frightened at the prospect of facing a _child_ who had the ability to _successfully_ cast a Redacted Curse. Unlike the Unforgivables, which owed their classification to standards created by Auror-guarded paper-pushing politicians, Redacted Curseswere marked as such by magicals learned in the higher arts. The Curses were horrifyingly dangerous to the victim and, to a lesser extent, the caster and had far reaching effects for most people to even consider casting them, if they possessed such knowledge at all. Such Curses had, over time, been erased from all books and were only passed by word of mouth between masters and apprentices.

For a mere teen to be able to cast a curse like that was both… frightening and illuminating.

"Makes you wonder what kinds of _anathema_ Ares Black has dirtied his hands with…" Janus whispered thoughtfully.

"What are your orders, Lord Janus?" the assassin asked, standing straight and ready for his next mission.

Janus mused, his fingers drumming the edge of the chair next to him. "I need _you_ to keep a closer watch on Ares Black. I was… _fortunate_ to have a _view_ of the entire series of events at the Ministry atrium, and I have several… experiments in mind in regards to the boy."

The assassin nodded. There was no one in the entire world, save Lazarus perhaps, who _might_ know the identity of Janus as he always used an advanced Polyjuice potion to look a random civilian (or at least, that was the theory anyway). Even now, the leader looked like a nondescript male in his forties with black hair and blue eyes.

But one fact was known to all. _Janus had ears and eyes everywhere._ If it was possible for anyone to smuggle an assassin into a proper position to conduct further clandestine activities, it would be Janus.

"Await my message." Janus left the throne and nearly left the room before he turned around and stared at the assassin for a few seconds. "The contractor… Walden Macnair, was it?"

"Yes, Lord Janus."

"I do not like loose ends."

* * *

 **Two days later.**

Lucius Malfoy and his wife Narcissa sat in the large parlour of the Black townhouse located at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, London in discomfort. Ever since Lord Cygnus Black had fortified it into the Black Family's stay and business in 1659, the Townhouse had become the symbol of the Blacks in Wizarding Britain. Lucius had accompanied his father Abraxas and later, his wife Narcissa to the Christmas Balls hosted every year at this extravagant mansion untill 1980. With most of the Blacks dead (or imprisoned), the lights had succumbed away from the Townhouse, especially after Walburga Black gave in to her demise soon after her husband passed away. Ever since then, the Townhouse had been locked away by the ancestral wards all around it. Thinking of it, it must have been Sirius Black abusing his Lordship to do so in the first place after he had escaped with the bloody _Boy-who-lived._

 _The last time I walked through these halls, it was for Walburga to declare my son her heir._ Lucius thought bitterly. _And now I am here because I believed in her delusions._

Kreacher, dressed in proper uniform, appeared in front of the seated couple. "Lord Black will be here with you shortly." With his message delivered, the elder elf turned towards Narcissa, bowed and popped away.

"I believe," An extremely familiar voice passed through the doorway, "that even my _family elf_ knows who are, and who aren't worthy of respect."

Two pairs of eyes shifted towards the door and simultaneously widened slightly at the sight of Sirius Black – dressed in the robes of a Lord over dragon hide armour – walking through the room.

Lucius stared at the man who was considered to be the epitome of Gryffindor House walk with all the power and grace of a Pureblood Lord. The man who chose _Gryffindor_ out of spite for his family, who fought against anyone who wished to change his views was now the Lord of the very House he once reviled.

Sirius stood across the couple with a couch behind him.

Narcissa stood up to utter the traditional greetings when a member of a House was in audience with the Lord of said House.

Lucius stared.

Narcissa coughed.

Lucius continued to stare, transfixed from his seated position.

Narcissa cleared her throat loudly, as Sirius raised a single eyebrow.

"Lucius?"

Lucius shook himself out of his thoughts upon hearing his wife's voice. Remembering his position, he stood up so quickly that he felt a muscle pull.

"Please…" Sirius replied in a disarming voice. "Have a seat." He took a step back, relaxing himself into the confines of the couch behind him.

Now seated, Lucius considered the situation. He had expected the conversation to start with a direct threat, if not outright cursing, followed by demands for the _three favours_ which would reduce Lucius and the Malfoy name to rags by the end of the day. However, he certainly did not expect _Sirius Black_ to welcome them like a perfect Slytherin into his well-guarded fortress and then play with them by offering them the illusion of safety like he was doing at the moment.

"This house" Sirius began with a casual tone, "has been sealed ever since I moved away to the Ancestral Manor. I am not sure if my mother's portrait went silent out of complete solitude."

Narcissa chuckled weakly. "It's… good to see you, Si- Lord Black."

"It's good to see you as well, Narcissa. I see the rumours about you inheriting Grandaunt Irma's _Veela_ heritage were not false. You still like the senior attending Hogwarts."

Narcissa's cheeks had a slight tinge of red.

Women, Lucius decided, were weaklings when it came to other's appreciation of their looks.

"Thank you, Sirius."

Sirius turned towards Lucius. "I cannot, in good faith, say the same about you, Lucius."

Lucius suppressed the urge to snarl. Then again, he had an equally powerful urge to try apparate away, tradition be damned. If not for the knowledge of the Townhouse's overwhelming wards, he would have tried.

"What… do you want from me, Lord Black?" Lucius replied in what was perhaps his worse attempt at sounding normal. In hindsight, he could have done a lot better if he was not frightened to death.

A ghost of a smirk floated on Sirius's lips. "I do not like dancing with words. I shall get straight to the point." He paused. "The fact that you attempted assassination on my person, as well as…" His voice tightened, "my son is not something that needs to be debated."

Lucius felt his fists tighten even as Narcissa stiffened beside him.

"You did this in spite of knowing that it was, in fact, due to my son you were not declared traitors and dispatched to the French countryside to live alongside the ancestral shepherds."

Lucius felt his knuckles grow whiter.

"It is quite natural that you expect me to deliver for your transgressions which, I am sure you realise, are _severe_."

Lucius sagged in his seat, ready to close his eyes and accept his end. Even if he were to raise his wand in a misguided act of revenge, the wards of the Black Townhouse would kill him faster than he could draw his wand.

"However…." Sirius seemed to relish the moment. "Before we go over your punishment, let us discuss what happened over the past month."

" _DISCUSS!?_ " Lucius lashed out in supressed rage, his voice choleric. "I fell to hubris, and your son took undue advantage of the entire situation. When your son declared himself as the Heir Black, I saw a chance and took it, wanting to claim leverage and power over the Ancient House of Potter as well. The entire plan was flawed from the start."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "I wonder, Lucius… Which _start_ are you talking about? Are you perhaps mentioning the stage set by my son declaring himself as the Black Heir at Hogwarts this very month?" He relaxed into the comfort of the couch. "Or are you perhaps referring to the moment when I ensured Albus Dumbledore passed the law forcing Ares and me to return, _forcefully I might add_ , to Wizarding Britain? Or perhaps" he drawled, "you might be referring to the moment where Lord Arcturus Black _allowed_ and _ordered_ Walburga Black to make young Draco the next in line for the Black Lordship?"

Lucius felt his throat go dry. "What… do you mean?"

Sirius beamed at him, a highly disconcerting thing.

Standing up from his couch, he walked up to the closest window, and peered outside, his gait as firm as ever. "In 1977, when my dear old mother decided to throw away the standing of the Most Ancient House of Black and lick the feet of that uppity _hypocritical bastard_ you call a Dark Lord, allowing someone like the _Noble Family of Malfoy_ to have more say in the affairs of my family, Lord Arcturus Black concocted a plan." Sirius turned towards Lucius and grinned. "Would you like to know what that is?"

Lucius clenched his fists.

"Lord Arcturus _suggested_ to Walburga," Sirius's voice was dripping with amusement, "that it would be a good idea to continue with her beliefs and make young Draco the next in line to receive the Black Lordship with the inheritance ritual to be performed on his sixteenth birthday _and not a day sooner_. It might not be common knowledge but no one, _not even Walburga Black or the_ _acting Lord of Black_ can disinherit _the Blood Heir_ without express permission from the Lord himself. Considering that my disinheritance was a matter of public record, you can be assured that it had the _express permission_ of my grandfather, Lord Arcturus Black."

Silence.

"Why?" Narcissa breathed, not understanding the bizarre twist Sirius was revealing to them.

Sirius grinned again. "Two years later, in 1979, Grandfather, operating from the Gringotts branch in Bulgaria, voided my disinheritance, brought me back into the family, invited me to the Ancestral Manor and completed the inheritance ritual, magically and legally declaring me as the Heir Apparent and Acting Lord of Black."

"Uncle Orion had passed away in early 1978." Narcissa whispered in shock and growing horror.

Sirius's smile widened. "And my dearest mother, believing that all was well, did not even deign to check the finer details of the House. The shrew did consider herself above such _menial matters_."

Lucius and Narcissa looked like someone had struck with the petrification and bowel loosening hex.

Sirius smirked and continued. "Come now, Lucius. You should have realised _something_ was amiss when my brother by blood, Regulus Black, a direct descendant of the House of Black was passed over for your son, a descendant of a cadet line."

"The funny thing about Ancient and Most Ancient Houses, Lucius…" Sirius continued, "is that they have been around long enough to understand and utilise opportunities when presented with them. One particular right we possess is that the Lord of an Ancient or Most Ancient House has the _luxury_ to keep certain documents from public record. Of course, if requested formally through an official letter to the Lord by a member of the family, or if asked for through Ministry-mandated means, said luxury ceases to exist."

"You…." Lucius could hardly speak. "You… The latest will and testament was ordered by Lord Arcturus to be sealed away from public record."

"And me, being the respectful grandson I am, stayed true to my grandfather's wishes." Sirius was openly smiling. "It is your own arrogance that made you ignore your status as a mere Regent of the House of Black and try to retrieve documents which you had no right to access. You failed to utilise your precious Minister and even disregarded House of Potter's status as an Ancient House and filed a _formal complaint_ , so sure of your own knowledge. I admit; the entire thing could not have gone better even if you had _cooperated_ willingly."

In another world, Lucius would probably have had taken out his wand and done his legitimate best to kill Sirius then and there. Maybe he might even have managed a successful hit before the wards exterminated him. However, this was not one of those worlds.

Lucius felt his body droop. He had been tricked. The Blacks had been playing him all along. He could only pull his lips to ask a single question. "…. Why?"

Sirius's grin turned feral. "Do you remember _Charlus Potter_? Why, you were the one who led the attack on Saint Mungo's, the attack that led to Uncle Charlus and Aunt Dorea's deaths. The same Dorea Potter _nee Black_ who was my grandfather's - the previous Lord Back - _dear little sister_. The same sister who had volunteered to help the patients of her own free will. Uncle Charlus was present during that moment because he wanted to protect his wife. And _you_ , along with those _mindless followers_ under your command, killed them."

"But…. But… the Dark Lord… the Dark Lord ordered their… deaths. The Dark…" Lucius was openly sweating now.

"And you, like the little slave that you are, marked as his cattle, bent over backwards to fulfil his every single whim, didn't you?" Sirius snarled. "Well, revenge is best served cold, as they say."

"I am… I am..."

"I must say," Sirius continued, "it worked just like Grandfather planned it. With the fall of the Dark Lord, you, Lucius Malfoy, used the Black name to garner power and prestige. In the process of doing so, _you_ ensured that House _Malfoy_ was _subservient_ to the House of Black, since that is the only way for a Noble House to command the Regency of a House of the Most Ancient rank. For the better part of two decades, you have held the power over the entire Dark Alliance, and the funny thing is, all of that was done in the name of the House of Black. And now the House of Black has a Lord." Sirius sneered. "To sum the situation, you Lucius Malfoy, are _my bitch_."

Lucius felt his strength flag and crashed to the floor, his face deathly pale and his eyes visible wide in absolute panic.

Narcissa rushed down towards her husband in haste and concern. "Lucius? Lucius?" She cried in fear.

Lucius demonstrated no visible reaction.

Sirius walked up to him, and performed a couple of diagnostic spells. "Pfft!" he sneered. "Unfortunately, he is safe. There are no signs of cardiac anomaly or unusual brain activity. He is merely suffering from a severe anxiety attack."

Narcissa rounded back at him, her voice filled with concern and fright. "Will he be alright?"

Sirius had a distasteful expression on his face, but lifted his wand, and ignoring Narcissa's growing horror, whispered, " _Cheerio!_ "

A couple of seconds later, the deathly pale visage lifted off Lucius as blood rushed through his face and he began coughing madly.

Narcissa breathed out in elation.

Sirius smirked.

"Not that I am not grateful for what you did, Sirius," Narcissa replied in a borderline demanding tone, "but I must ask, what do you want from us? Unless of course, it is your intention to slowly and painfully kill my husband by reducing us to paupers or slaves to your name."

The smirk vanished from Sirius's face, replaced by a stoic expression. "On the contrary, I have no wish of doing so."

Lucius coughed loudly. "You… you don't?" He groaned. Had this man nearly killed him, only to bring him back and repeat the process?

Sirius tilted his head as he relaxed back into the comforts of the couch. "You can keep the Malfoy name. You can keep your lifestyle, and your gold. You can keep the alliances House Malfoy holds with the rest of the Dark Alliance. However, you _answer_ to _me_ now. To the House of Black." He paused. "And I have yet to utilise the three favours you owe to _my_ House."

A traitorous part of Narcissa's mind could not help but agree that her cousin did make a formidable Lord Black. Her grandfather had chosen wisely.

"And?" Lucius asked weakly.

"You shall discontinue the path of being a Death eater from this moment forward. I do not care how you do it, but do it you shall. You will introduce me to the rest of the Dark Alliance. You shall use your political capital, together with the rest of the Dark Alliance, to help me completely _annihilate Albus Dumbledore and_ _Voldemort."_

Lucius widened his eyes. _Annihilate Dumbledore?_

"Let me make myself very clear, Lucius. My son, Ares, formerly Harry James Potter, is the _True Lord of House Slytherin._ The Lord of the same House your imposter of a Dark Lord has pretended to be a descendant of. This is your chance to truly serve _House of_ _Slytherin_ ,and not some jumped-up mudblood offspring of the despicable Gaunt Line."

Lucius said nothing. Neither did Narcissa.

"My son, as of this moment, holds power over two Most Ancient and three Ancient Houses. He is in alliance with the Ancient House of Greengrass, and the Most Ancient House of Longbottom. That does not count the personal alliances that these Houses can call upon. Should I will it, I can easily _disband_ the Dark Alliance and pick up survivors to join my bloc." Sirius paused for a moment, as he leaned towards Lucius, glaring at him. "So tell me Lucius, are you _worth keeping_?"

* * *

 **An hour later…**

Sirius Black allowed his weary head to fall back onto the couch, as he allowed the effects of firewhiskey try and sedate his mind. It had taken patience - lots and lots of patience - to sit there, and get what he wanted out of Lucius, and not blow the bastard to smithereens as had been his original plan.

Scratch that, it had been his only plan before he had been forced to reconsider the opportunity granted to him by his grandfather - No thanks to his son's constant pestering.

Sirius let out a deep breath once again. Politics was not his field. He could not wait for his son to acquire his NEWTs and take up his rightful position at the Wizengamot. Until then, he would make sure that the pests of Albus Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort were exterminated for good.

 _Irrespective of what Ares thinks of them._ Sirius decided.

"I sincerely hope that the plan has indeed come to fruition."

Sirius turned his head to stare at the source of the voice, his lips twisted in displeasure as he watched Edward Nott waltz his way into the room. "I received communication from Theodore that his meeting with Ares was done for the day."

Sirius scowled. He had spent his evening doing the best impression of grandfather he could while the devilspawn of a son had been lounging upstairs with Theodore Nott in the library.

"Yes." Sirius replied darkly. He did not like dealing with Edward Nott. "It certainly went as planned. House Malfoy is now under my command."

Edward clapped. "That is indeed good news. I congratulate you on your success, Lord Black."

"Do not believe this makes one jot of difference between us, Nott." Sirius stated clearly. "I do not trust you. I doubt I ever will."

Edward smiled. "It would be foolish of you to do so. The two of us are residents of different worlds, Lord Black. Your world is divided into people you love, and those you do not. My world is divided into several shards, each having its own measure of profitability. I cannot ignore them like you can."

"I am not interested in your life, Nott."

Edward chuckled. "Of course not. However, I do believe that we had an initial pact, one that could be finalized should today's plans reach fruition."

Sirius scowled. "I remember. The Houses of Black and Slytherin are in alliance with the House of Nott from henceforth. The official declaration shall have to wait till the next Wizengamot meeting."

"Splendid." Edward clapped his hands enthusiastically. "Theo, my son and the present Head of House Nott, has been rather… enthusiastic about the prospect of this alliance. With our mutual alliance with the House of Greengrass, and your alliance with the House of Longbottom, I can certainly see a powerful bloc at the Wizengamot. I am glad that as both father and Regent, I was able to fulfil his wishes."

The scowl on Sirius's face dissipated. "You are still required to make sure that the Dark Alliance does not disband. It must remain under the control of House Black."

"Silly me." Edward smiled. "Rest assured, my son is good friend with Heir Zabini, who as you might recognize, is very well related to the Most Ancient House of Selwyn. With our alliance, and with Lucius arranging the necessary capital, the Dark Alliance will find that there are worse things that can happen by _not staying_ under the protection of House Black."

"And the _other matter_ we discussed?"

"Progressing as promised."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "I certainly hope… that they do."

* * *

 **AN: Holy Shit! The Authors have returned from the dead and are updating the story!**

 **AN2: Did you see the** _ **twist**_ **coming?**

 **AN3: Either way… Peverells got its update as promised, and the next one will be arriving soon. For those who might be inquiring about Transcendence… you might get an update in a week's time… Skadarken is busy in his exams and I have been quite busy dillydallying (I mean working my arse off).**


	17. Eccentric Anyone?

The Transylvanian Alps, or as the Romans like to call them, the Southern Carpathians, are one of the most mysterious places on the planet whose history is so shrouded in rumours, legends and myth that one would be hard pressed to find the true nature of the great mountains.

However, there was one tale that every magical historian worth their craft would unanimously agree to be true. In the year 1040 AD, a village on the shore of the Danube River was infested with rats and the villagers, unable to live in the squalid conditions, sought the services of a wandering wizard who offered to rid them of the rats in return for payment. Utilising music imbued with his magic, the wizard drew the rats away from town and drowned them in the Danube. When he returned to the village for his payment, the villagers accused him of setting the rats on them in order to extort their gold and was promptly thrown out only for the wizard to leave with a cackle that sent shivers down the spines of all who heard him. A month after the incident when the adults were all at church, the wizard once again used his music to lure all the children in the village to a nearby cave. Upon finding their charges missing from home, the villagers searched in crazed desperation and unable to find them, sent out messages to their neighbours and their neighbours to find the wandering wizard, believing that he had taken their children away in revenge.

Five years to the day the children went missing and at a point when all but the most stubborn of villagers had given up hope of finding either their children or the wizard, their missing children, who had not aged a day, appeared in the village. There were no lights or voices or unnatural events preceding their arrival. At first, the villagers had feared this to be another trick but as they tested the children who had no memory of the past five years and were blessed to ensure they were not the undead, the village folk welcomed them with open arms.

As time went on, however, the villagers who were happy to have their children returned to them grew worried and later turned paranoid regarding their behaviour.

Should the children not act different? Should they not be even more afraid of the dark? Should they like the dark? How could they act like their parents had not suffered for half a decade?

Such doubts began to plague the villagers and the children were watched with hawk like eyes. In the midst of this scrutiny and unaware of the events around them, the children grew up like any other. Yet, the doubts would not leave the villagers.

Their fear of their own blood grew and grew until it finally spilled over. Two years after the _Return_ – as the villagers had begun to call it – all the adults of the village – without exception - gathered in the village square at night, sharpened their tools and walked into their homes before slaughtering their children like lambs. They went about the work with the same methodical precision one utilised to farm crops or gather the milk.

At dawn, the villagers realised over a dozen children had escaped into the woods surrounding them. In their silent frenzy, the villagers believed the children would soon spread their abnormality to their neighbours and chased them.

By the time the Lord of the region heard of the news and sent his troops to end the threat of the crazed villagers, over a dozen villages and three towns were cut down in cold blood. The troops of the Lord ended the lives of the villagers and when the troops themselves failed to return, the Lord entered the region where his troops were last spotted and simply disappeared along with his retinue.

Mundane and magical alike began considering the region north of the Danube and the Carpathians to be a cursed land as monsters began roaming the land and the legends grew and grew until the emerging magical governments banded together and sent a force to end the threat of the monsters only to find monsters returning the mutilated bodies of the forces stuck on large pikes and missives stating that the Carpathians were now off limits unless given expression by a single individual.

 _The Lord of the Outer Night._

* * *

 **Bucharest, Romania. September 27, 1995.**

Tom Marvolo Riddle gazed at the suburban homes he was _driving_ past, keeping a careful count in his head in order to locate the house he was looking for. He needed this meeting before he lost the opportunity and was forced to attempt the muddy, slimy, trap and monster-filled trek up that _blasted mountain again_.

He had spent the past two months on a quest to meet the present _Lord of the Outer Night._ And it was an honest to Merlin quest taken straight out of a novel. Just like those moronic heroes of a children's fairy tale, he had braved the dangerous trek up _that blasted mountain_ in the Southern Carpathians all by his lonesome, facing everything from hinkypunks and red caps to werewolves and vampires, avoid innumerable traps before he could even reach the Castle courtyard located at the peak, his dragon hide armour set in tatters, his right side bloodied and ankle mangled from a werewolf attack with his hair caked in the ichor of some creature he could not even identify.

Upon his less than stellar arrival at the courtyard, a carriage taken straight out of Bram Stoker's novel picked him up and ferried him to the castle where human-looking manservants and maids led him to the massive guest parlour where he was seated with all the refreshments one could desire and surprised that not _one_ of them blinked at him still holding his wand or the extreme regeneration he displayed. Though he was careful not to show any emotions. It would not do to tip his hand.

He spent the next thirty minutes trying to avoid staring at the most ostentatious baroque style furniture, paintings and decorations before the Seneschal arrived to inform Tom of his… _reward_.

Listening to the reward, Tom thanked Merlin for his skill in Occlumency for he would have otherwise… died trying to destroy the castle. At the very least, he would have lost his physical body.

All of those events three days ago led to Tom now parking his rental car in front of a completely unassuming home. Checking his appearance in the mirror, he adjusted his business suit, slicked his black hair to the side and shifted his tie a little to the right.

Nodding to himself, Tom left the car without bothering to lock it and walked up the path to the house with a frown. The closer he was to the door, the greater his frown until he scowled as he stood right in front of the door. He could feel no wards. There were no protective enchantments, charms or even a basic alert ward surrounding the house. While his ability to _sense_ magic was not at the level of say… the Rosier family, he could certainly feel any magic present within a fifty yard radius and this house radiated nothing.

Clearing his face of all emotion, Tom pulled out the card. The Seneschal at the castle had given it to him after he had patiently explained that the Lord of the castle lived in a small house in the city and would welcome Tom if he arrived there in three days at seven in the evening. That had set off another silent tantrum in his mind.

Holding back the sigh at his thoughts, Tom verified the address, placed the card back in his pocket and pressed on the doorbell. A moment later, he felt surprise as the door opened because he did not even hear the tread of footsteps on the hardwood flooring.

Tom's surprise increased further at the sight before him. Standing before him was a young male who appeared to be in early twenties, was of average height, dark brown hair, sunshine yellow eyes, wore a blue T-shirt and torn jeans with a pink apron worn on top of his clothes with the words ' **WORLD'S GREATEST ARTIST'** emblazoned in white and stained in what appeared to be cooking oil.

Tom felt his instincts flare and he prepared to draw his wand when the male spoke with a perfect British accent.

"Hello there. You must be Tom Riddle. Come on in."

Tom displayed the extent of his confusion with a simple blink. Not bothering to correct the eccentric individual on his name, he nodded in thanks and stepped forward into the home and sensed the door close behind him as the young male waved him forward and into a small but comfortable living room with a set of refreshments on the table.

"Please. Take a seat." The young male in the ridiculous apron gestured towards one of the couches and occupied the armchair on the other side of the table.

Tom gingerly took the offered seat and blinked when a cup of strong black tea – his favourite blend - was placed before him.

"Have some tea."

Tom made no move to drink it.

The young male did not look insulted. "Well, Mister Riddle, I am Vlad Rada Dragulia."

A myriad number of thoughts passed through Tom's mind but he quickly suppressed them before they caused him to breach some unknown etiquette. Instead, he merely nodded his head. "Count Dragulia."

Dragulia considered him for a moment before nodding in what seemed to be approval. "I must say it was quite the surprise when my Seneschal called me. I rarely have any visitors."

 _Maybe because you put them through a gauntlet that only the most foolish or desperate would go through._ Tom kept the snide thought to himself.

"But you did take a circuitous path to meet me, Mister Riddle. A simple perusal through the Romanian Phone Directory would have revealed my address. I would have posted a board on the mountain path but my overprotective minions refuse to let me in the name of _my safety_."

 _Bloody buggering maniac._ Tom chose to smile. "I shall consider it on my next visit."

The Count nodded minutely. "Colour me surprised. I did not expect a… Dark Lord from the Isles to visit me. Rumours say you should be busy slaughtering your way through the new bloods or torturing your followers into submission."

Tom kept his smile. He could play this game. "It would be beneath your station to quote rumours, Count Dragulia. I only hope to change my homeland for the better."

Count Dragulia smiled and Tom did not understand why his instincts refused to relax. "Yes, I have heard of your… _rebellion_ fifteen years ago. Personally, I am more interested your _resurrection_ , Mister Riddle. It is not often one comes back from the dead without the assistance of the _Night_."

Tom Riddle merely nodded at the compliment.

"So tell me," The Count relaxed into the couch, an easy smile on his face. "What can the House of Wallachia do for you?"

The Dark Lord considered his words. It would not do to make an enemy of the Count. Hell he would rather face Dumbledore in an open battle to the death anyway.

Tom chose his words and tone with care. It would be easier to fight Dumbledore than to even survive the retaliation of Wallachia. "I wish to procure the resources of the House of Wallachia to support my cause."

The Count cleared his throat softly. "You mean you wish for my militia."

"The Hand of Samael, to be precise." Tom replied without hesitation. He could not lose the Lord's approval, even if he had no idea how he achieved it. "The indomitable strength of your militia will help my cause gain a quick victory against the British Ministry."

"Interesting." The Count replied slowly. For those who were _dangerously_ familiar with the workings of the moonlit world, the House of Wallachia had a significant presence. The Count had, to his service, three different forces at his beck and all. The first were the _Grigori_ , a vampire population with the physical power to defeat a mountain troll in direct combat. The second were _Strigoi_ , undead souls raised from graves using necromancy and whose hunger for the living was unending – one could liken them to the dementors. The third were the notorious _Hand of Samael_ , which comprised of the most powerful individuals in the service of the Count.

Count Dragulia yawned. "I assume that my wayward follower whispered the secrets of Wallachia in your ears."

Tom paused and took a shallow breath to fortify himself. "Indeed." Which was true, since the very same man who had once betrayed the Count's orders, and escaped to the Isles thirty years ago had been the one to inform him about the Hand of Samael. He could still remember the bloodied, mutilated and yet miraculously alive werewolf whom the world now feared as _Fenrir Greyback_.

"A pity it was," The Count made an odd noise, "to hear that he gave in to his primal self _after_ betraying me, when he had been punished over his inability to perform the very act in the first place."

Tom wisely kept quiet.

"Interesting." The Count repeated. "So tell me, _Lord Voldemort_ , what do you offer in return for the strength of my armies to shower upon your enemies?"

Tom pulled on his stoic mask. "What do you want in return, Count Dragulia?"

"Hmmm." The Count tapped his chin for a few seconds. "You will arrange a position for me at Hogwarts and you will provide me with all the necessary documents to ensure my identity remains a secret."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

The Count chortled. "You see, Mister Riddle, I am an adopted child. Long before I attained my current title, I used to live in the Isles with my family."

Tom took the appearance of the Count under consideration. Even without the _undead_ factor, the man seemed to be in his twenties, though it was difficult to pin an exact age to the man's appearance. "That was a surprising revelation. When... was that?"

"Oh, it feels like a hundred years ago." The Count replied airily.

"So what brings you back?"

The Count smiled. "Well my family still lives there. My brother is wandering around there as well, I believe…" He paused for a moment. "My real brother that is. I occasionally keep tabs on him and his… activities, and I fear he might have gotten himself in a bit of a… _bind_."

Tom raised an eyebrow. While he was not a master of necromancy, he knew enough to understand the symbolism of terms like _binds_ when used in casual conversation. Especially if the person using it is an undead from a family versed in Necromancy.

"You speak of it like it is a common occurrence."

"Well…" The Count drawled. "He's… complicated. Defiant, ill-mannered, and a little… temperamental." He lit a cigarette. "See, although we b0th share the same father… my brother resents him deeply, never felt like he… _belonged_." He chuckled. "All told, he has a long history of getting himself into trouble."

"And you have a history of breaking him out of it." Tom mused, inwardly contemplating the origins of the present Count of Wallachia.

"Well… sometimes its honey, sometimes its vinegar." The Count replied easily, sinking back into the couch.

"I am sure… that a man like you could have driven a harder bargain, Count Dragulia." Tom replied with a slight playful tone inject into his voice. "Surely someone of your means could easily afford an official cover."

"You'd be surprised." The Count replied, more affably than Tom was comfortable with. "However, that is exactly what I demand in return for lending my army for a period of…?"

"Three years."

"Three years." The Count repeated in easy compliance. "However, I must warn you that I am not _terribly fond of torture and death_ and as such, I would prefer it if you could keep your… _butcher-fest_ out of my… activities and residence."

Tom understood the message. Hogwarts would remain free of any kind of skirmish for the near future.

"If I might ask… why Hogwarts? Surely you would have better ways to spend your time than… be in the presence of annoying children?"

The Count beamed. "You never know who among them attract your attention. From what I know of my brother, he found a friendship that allowed him to gain and lose the world." He paused, his expression turning a little trite. "Besides, it's been ages since I stepped out of these lands. I do say a vacation is in order."

Tom finally understood why his instincts continued to scream at him and the reason people in the know avoided dealing with the Count. The Count felt too… mundane, too affable and too frickin' _approachable_ in plain contrast to the power he wielded. He could sense nothing from the man and that had his estimation of the Count rise sharply.

For a moment, he wondered if he had gained or lost in his endeavour to gain the support he needed to bring victory to his cause.

"Very well, my Count." Tom stood up from the couch, gathering himself. "I shall make arrangements immediately. Please look forward for an owl."

The Count laughed. "It'll be funny … seeing an owl of all things flying through these dark skies. And do remember, Mister Riddle, I am going to Britain because _you invited me in_."

Tom found the statement to be rather disconcerting but held up from asking any further explanation.

* * *

 **Meanwhile at Black Manor. September 29, 1995.  
**

Sirius Black was worried at the moment. It was the exact same feeling he had when the idea hit him and ever since, doubts and worry about the involved party's reactions plagued him. Still, this needed to be done. So, he had sucked in all his anxiety, dropped Ares off at the entrance to Hogwarts – His son had argued for the gates but Sirius had overruled him – and organised the meeting he currently held in the Lord's study of Black Manor. It consisted of him behind the desk, the portrait of his grandfather, his grandaunt and his son's tutor- No, it was _master_ now that he knew the truth, a truth for which he had yet to find the time to chew Ares out for.

"When you mentioned holding a meeting Lord Black, facing the entire Black family was not a possibility I considered." Perenelle's tone was even and betrayed none of her emotions on the matter.

"Lady Flamel, I would agree that it must look like subterfuge," Sirius's tone was serious. "but the only person who could be blamed for the entire mess was you and your secretive attempts at performing rituals with _My Son and Heir_." He was near snarling by the end.

"Let it go, Sirius." The portrait of Arcturus spoke in his usual orotund voice. "You cannot go back in time and fix what you lost. Learn to focus on the present. Those rituals helped my grandson survive the attempt on his life and save your life as well." Eyes of hardened steel fell on Perenelle. "I believe Lady Flamel is an important ally since it was her apprentice who nearly died. I am sure she is quite _invested_ in Ares being a part of the living."

Perenelle gave a cold smile. "You have a way with words, Lord Black. Why, I do believe you could make even _coercion_ look like an act of sacrifice."

The portrait chuckled, unoffended by her words. "Hardly, Lady Flamel. I have not had the opportunity to try such a tactic. Perhaps we could-"

"Return to the issue at hand?" Cassiopeia interrupted, her posture radiating just how pleased she was with the issue at hand.

"Yes." Sirius agreed. "Now Lady Flamel, if you would explain exactly why my son is involved in rituals?" He knew it did not sound like a question.

Perenelle gave him a sharp glance, before turning towards Cassiopeia. Taking a moment to order her thoughts, she began speaking. "Ever since Ares learned of his Slytherin heritage and the parasitic nature of the Family Magic, he began pushing the boundaries of accepted magical research and was learning fields of magic that most witches and wizards would not touch with a ten foot wand." A smile played on her lips. "Most of his time as my apprentice has been spent in pursuit of the same. All of his research into rituals and the esoteric arts has been to assimilate the Slytherin Magic before _it_ assimilates him."

"Two years ago, Ares spoke to me in confidence and informed me of an anomaly he noticed in his magic. I would have dismissed the subject if not for his demonstration. It was then I believed that the infamous Halloween night left Ares with more than a mere scar."

Sirius looked confused. "Halloween? Is it about his- I mean, I know what happened with-" His face darkened, "The theories about that night are-"

"Are real. At the very least, the most important point shared by all of them is singularly true." Perenelle interrupted.

Sirius scoffed. "Lady Flamel, I accept that you are the leading expert in your fields of study but the idea of my son _surviving_ the Killing Curse at fifteen months of age is a ludicrous notion at best."

"A theory that the entire continent accepts?" Cassiopeia stressed.

"Repeating a lie one hundred times does not make it the truth, Aunt Cassie." Sirius refuted.

"No, it does not. However, there are people who can test such a _ludicrous_ theory and not all of them are part of the common rabble." Cassiopeia pointed out.

"How are they going to test such a theory? Find an infant and ca-" Sirius felt his throat parch at the expression on Cassiopeia's face. "Aunt Cassie, _what exactly_ did you do?"

"I did nothing." Cassiopeia refuted in a small voice. "Nothing that led to any harm."

"But what did-?"

"I believe," Perenelle interrupted sternly, "that I have yet to state the _anomaly_ Ares confided about."

There was silence in the room.

Perenelle frowned. "As _Miss Black_ here might suggest, there is indeed, a justified explanation to the theory of the _Boy-Who-Lived_. I believe, if you would ask your son, Lord Black, he could substantial proof that he was, in fact, struck by a killing curse cast by Voldemort."

"I do know about the protective enchantments Lily set up, Lady Flamel." Sirius was harsh. He did not want to even entertain the possibility of-

"If you would allow her to complete her explanation, Sirius!" Arcturus did not raise his voice but the sheer presence of the portrait made it seem unnaturally loud.

Sirius glared at the portrait.

Perenelle shifted in her seat to get more comfortable. "I am sure that the late Lily Potter must have done everything she could to protect her son. Any proper mother would."

The odd turn of phrase interested the three Blacks but they chose to hold their tongues.

"I have personally investigated every single piece of evidence that could be obtained from that infamous Halloween. I've performed as many calculations as necessary to verify the claims. To my utter disappointment and surprise, my conclusions on the matter are ambiguous. I do not believe that Lily Potter's protections had any hand in the anomaly in concern."

Cassiopeia exchanged a glance with Perenelle and she knew what the discussion was leading to.

"What do you mean her protections had no hand in it?" Sirius retorted. "How could it not have a hand in what's affecting Ares?"

Perenelle scoffed. "My inferences are simple, Lord Black. Lily Potter created a rudimentary but effective sacrificial ritual that would protect her son by using her life source as the fuel. A life for a life. A crude but workable method. But it would not be enough to perform the deed everyone says Ares did that night."

"I believe there was an unexpected element added to the mother's sacrifice. Let's call it the Catalyst. It was the Catalyst that helped draw on the magic in infant Ares, to empower the sacrificial protections and was responsible for saving his life."

"Could it have been James?" Cassiopeia interrupted.

"No!" Sirius answered firmly. "James… James was still alive when I entered the cottage. The ritual couldn't have used him as a sacrifice."

"I never said it was another sacrifice, Miss Black." Perenelle returned smoothly. "The Catalyst was responsible for awakening the latent Family Magics present within your son, the combined might of which helped him survive the Killing Curse."

"But Lily's protection-"

"Would _not_ have stopped an Unforgivable, Lord Black." Perenelle interrupted, her tone reminiscent of the manner in which one spoke to toddlers. "If Lily Potter's ritual worked exactly as it was intended, I believe Voldemort would have been _incinerated_ the moment he came in _physical_ contact with the infant." A cold smirk rose on her lips. "The same cannot be said for the killing curse."

Sirius and Arcturus's portrait remained silent while Cassiopeia took on a calculating gleam.

"Rituals are complicated instruments. The first rule of rituals is 'Assume nothing', because we are never sure of the impact of all the elements present within the circle. It is quite improbable to believe that Lily Potter's sacrifice has given Ares unassailable protection against Voldemort. Even if my inference is false and Ares is, in fact, invincible against Voldemort, all it would take is a single fatal hit from anyone else to kill him?" Perenelle tilted her head with a coy smile. "Or have you missed recent events?"

Sirius's eyes twitched dangerously at the comment.

Perenelle's voice turned harsh. "Life does not act like the plays in theatres, Lord Black. The notion that a single infant wizard gained immunity to one of the darkest curses ever created because his mother sacrificed her life for him belongs to the realm of fairy tales."

"Lily Potter was not a ritual mistress nor could she have possessed enough knowledge of the esoteric arts to even contemplate such an action. I assure you, if she was capable of performing what _you_ believed she was capable of, the world would be shorter by one grave."

That shut everybody up.

"Please continue." Arcturus nodded.

Perenelle stared at the portrait for a while before she continued. "My conclusion is that the Killing Curse did _touch_ Ares - even if it was for a miniscule length of time, but touch it did before the Family Magics responded to his distress, going so far as to repel the entire force of the spell back at Voldemort." She paused again. "The protection was not perfect and the rebounded curse left its mark."

"The intent of murder." Cassiopeia spoke in a small voice.

"So…." Perenelle stared at the Dark Arts mistress. "You know."

"What is she talking about, Aunt Cassie?" Sirius replied throatily.

Looking at the two people and portrait around her, Cassiopeia sighed. "When he desires to, Ares can project the _intent of murder_ through the form of his aura." The words left her mouth with the weight of steel. "It is not unlike the aura projected by powerful witches and wizards to radiate their presence. Unfortunately, in the case of my nephew, his aura contains the intent of murder. I theorised that it must have been the residual energies of the curse from that Halloween night and Lady Flamel just confirmed my fears. Ares can utilise his aura to-"

"He can kill with a touch." Arcturus realized in awe and burgeoning horror.

Sirius stared at his aunt as the implications hit him. His son, his heir, his Ares had been hiding this information from him for years. As his mind churned in anger, sorrow and guilt, all the missing pieces regarding his son fell into place. The boy's focused determination in growing powerful, his fear of turning into a murderous Dark Lord, his concerns over the Slytherin magic consuming him… It was no wonder Ares hid the information from him. It was probably the boy's misguided attempt at keeping him from worrying any further.

The next chance he got, Sirius was going to clobber his son into the ground before he explained to Ares that it was the father's duty to worry about the son and not the other way around. Cassiopeia would even help him on that particular point.

"Yes," Perenelle agreed solemnly. "Should he wish to, Ares can indeed kill with a mere touch."

Sirius felt something shatter inside him. "How long have you known this, Aunt Cassie?"

"Six months after I began teaching Ares." Cassiopeia replied softly, her countenance paling at Sirius's expression. "Sirius?" Her entire posture radiated worry.

Letting out a brief sigh, the Lord of Black returned a practiced smile. "I am okay." Turning to Perenelle, he beckoned her to continue.

"It took me weeks to verify the claim. Your son was rather insistent that I be thorough in my analysis. Not that I could be anything less given the situation." Perenelle looked Sirius in the eye, her gaze hard. "It was during my analysis of his aura that I discovered the soul shard inside him."

"The WHAT?" Arcturus bellowed.

Cassiopeia looked ready to faint.

Sirius returned Perenelle's gaze in grim desperation.

"His soul…" Perenelle stated, her eyes never leaving Sirius. "Ares has a foreign soul shard – one likely belonging to Voldemort – present within him." She gave the uninformed Blacks a moment to process the words and express their outrage in suitable terms. "I also discovered the containment matrix holding the shard and its influence at bay. I assume Lord Black took the proper precautions."

"My _grandson_ has a HORCRUX in him?" Arcturus was outraged. "How long have you known this important piece of information, Sirius!?"

"Since the night it all happened." Sirius replied in monotone. "After I retrieved Ares from the cottage, I went straight to Gringotts and requested aid from the goblins. The goblin healers discovered the shard during the course of their treatment and informed me after placing the shard into the containment matrix Lady Flamel's talking about. With their help, I've been looking for a way to remove that abomination since." Feeling the fatigue of all his years of searching for answers, he slumped in his chair and rubbed his eyes to remove the gritty feeling. "…I take Ares for an annual visit to the goblins to ensure the containment hasn't eroded."

"And when were you going to inform us?" Cassiopeia snarled.

"Fat lot of good that would have done." Sirius retorted with equal anger. "You think that you could have done something about it when the most accomplished healers threw their hands up?" A growl slipped past his lips "I _might_ have shared my information if _you_ were more forthcoming about who sent you here all those years ago."

Cassiopeia glowered.

"It was only when she," Sirius jerked his head towards Perenelle, "slipped up and told me that my son was hiding information from me and performing rituals without my knowledge that I convinced her to attend this meeting."

"Only you could call strong-arming as _convincing,_ Lord Black." Perenelle raised an elegant eyebrow. "Nevertheless, it is essential that all of you understand that Ares is an impossibility… Rather, it would be precise in saying that the presence of a horcrux in Ares is an improbability that should not have occurred at all."

"What do you mean?" Arcturus asked with a tone that said he really did not wish to know.

"In simple terms, the concept of a human horcrux is an antithesis to the reason a horcrux is created." Sirius's answer shocked everyone into silence though Perenelle stared at him with a calculative gleam.

"Contrary to popular belief, the idea that a soul can be split into pieces is utterly false. One cannot split their soul no matter what **Magick Moste Evile** and other vile works or healers would lead you to believe. A horcrux is not a soul shard split by committing murder. If that is all that was needed, we would have hundreds of immortal psychopaths raining around like Solstice gifts."

"You are very knowledgeable on the subject, Lord Black." Perenelle commented in curiosity.

Sirius's answer was simple. "I need to be."

"If a horcrux is not a soul shard and a soul cannot be split, then what is sitting in my grandson?" Arcturus really wanted to bash his elder grandson over the head for hiding the information from him. Thanks to his status as a portrait, he settled for glowering.

Sirius opened his mouth to throw out an answer but quickly sealed his lips. Carefully considering his answer, he spoke in a firm and clear tone of voice. "Everyone single human – magical or mundane – possess a soul. Every single soul is attached to the body they inhabit by… the word I found to describe them was threads. You see, each soul is fused to a body by a series of threads much like a hand controlled puppet." His expression turned grim. "Death occurs when the threads connecting the soul and body are severed. The Killing Curse induces death by severing the threads in a quick and efficient manner. The horcrux ritual was designed to be a form of insurance against such events but it was not bereft of costs."

Sirius had the hyper focused attention of every individual – living and inanimate – present in the room.

"The horcrux ritual is not unlike… Lily's." Sirius spoke of the comparison with distaste. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat." It works on the concept of the sacrifice but unlike the protection ritual, a horcrux requires the sacrifice of a victim through cold-blooded murder." He rubbed his eyes again when he felt a wet film coating them. "When a person dies and their… soul threads are severed, residual energies are released that soon imprint themselves on their environment if enough ambient magic is present within the region or a large number of deaths occur in succession or if the death is extremely violating to the soul."

"When the Killing Curse severs the threads of the chosen victim, the caster, using a pre-prepared necromantic ritual, harnesses these residual energies to create artificial threads tying his soul to a chosen container with the extra requirement that the container must be a suitably powerful magical object. Anything less and the ritual will fail."

"That's hardly the whole picture, is it?" Cassiopeia asked.

"Hardly." Sirius snorted. "Any form of alteration involving soul magic obeys the laws of equivalence, Aunt Cassie."

Cassiopeia's eyes widened in horror as realisation hit her.

Sirius assumed a savage grin. "To form artificial threads between a soul and a container, an equal number of threads must be severed between the body and soul. So, anyone performing it would experience-"

" _Death_." Cassiopeia whispered in horror.

"Right." Sirius agreed in a whisper. "To reach heaven, one must walk through Hell. To be immortal, one must first experience death."

None of the room's inhabitants spoke a word.

"It takes an _irrational fear_ of Death, a _concise and unshakeable belief_ that there is indeed _nothing_ , _nothing_ worse than dying, a belief that one would not _hesitate_ to do anything, _anything_ in order to escape from Death… to perform the ritual successfully." Sirius stated. "The newly severed threads then latch into the chosen container sanctified for the ritual. That," Sirius stated with a tone of finality, "is how a horcrux is made."

Arcturus mulled over the information with a scowl. "I believe I understand the magnitude of the ritual but why is a human horcrux an-"

"Antithesis?" Sirius filled in before the portrait could complete his question. "Because, unlike the threads that bind a soul to the mortal shell, the threads that latch to a magical object via the power of the ritual are… altered beyond recognition. These threads… they manifest a pseudo soul inside the magical artefact, something that _Magic Moste Evile_ calls a _soul shard_ , a voracious, ever-hungry, malicious abomination that will not stop until the ambient magic of the container is completely under its control. Relentless, absolute control."

"I believe the Dark Lord _Ekrizdis_ performed the very antithesis you speak." Perenelle threw in her explanation. "He attempted to create human _horcruxes_ as a means of creating an army composed entirely of himself. Needless to say, the attempt failed." She paused for a second. "The _soul shards_ consumed the host souls of the victims, mutilating their very essence, until the host soul succumbed to the soul shard. The shards continued to mutate their victims until what remained became just as malicious as the horcrux itself. A parasite that fed on ambient magic and, more importantly, souls."

She paused as she looked at the horrified faces, hiding a smirk at the dawning light in Cassiopeia's eyes. "Yes, Miss Black. Dementors."

* * *

 **Meanwhile at Hogwarts.**

Hermione Granger walked into the Hogwarts library right after dinner, a routine of her schedule ever since she first set foot in Hogwarts. As she watched the flying books in fascination, she smiled in remembrance of the first magical visit to her home.

Professor McGonagall had visited her home and informed her that she was a withc and the first thing Hermione felt was elation quickly followed by an almost vindictive glee. All those little events that she could never explain began making sense when the Professor revealed the existence of magic – a wonderful, marvellous, frightening force of nature that felt like second nature to her. She had always known, in the deepest trenches of her heart, that she was special but to finally realise all the impossible things she performed was because she _was_ special, was better than her peers and more brilliant was amazing. It certainly explained why all those idiots bullying her experienced… accidents.

A book zipping past her head caused Hermione's shift to reflex, an action that darkened her mood when she sighted a couple of slytherins talking behind a silencing ward.

Hogwarts had not proven to be the utopia she had built in her mind. The students were just as stupid and biased and foolish as her former school. The bullies in Hogwarts were even worse because they all had magic and could use potions and spells and a hundred other things that Hermione called dangerous and they called pranks.

Hermione sighed as she entered the row she needed and began to peruse for the book she needed. Her thoughts were getting depressing these days. Oh, she did not always feel this way. It was just that school had become unbearable since the semester had begun. To be more accurate, the students had become more irritating than she could have ever expected.

The rumours had begun swirling madly the moment Harry Pot- Ares Black's name had echoed through the Great Hall during the Annual Sorting Ceremony. Her dorm mates – Parvati and Lavender most of all – had begun gossiping about the boy being trained by all manner of beats and powerful figures and was back because he was going to face Voldemort in some kind of Duel-to-the-death. She would have rolled her eyes if not for Ronald 'Moron' Weasley shouting at everyone within earshot at the Gryffindor table that Ares Black was a slimy snake who betrayed Britain and his parents and was going to become the next Dark Lord.

It had become worse over the next two days when the Black had _transformed into a lion_ and scared the Moron to within an inch of his life. She had found the boy's animagus ability had angered and fascinated her and she had resolved to talk to him soon but not before she had giggled at the state of the Moron. The idiotic git deserved it for bullying her.

Then there was the entire fiasco with Daphne where she had tried to learn more Black only to find very little before she had to leave. Having a boy of her age surpass her with little effort grated on her nerves but she had come to terms with it. Besides, her condescending nature allowed her to get away with questions that would have otherwise raised flags with the wrong people. It was so useful to have a mask some days.

A day had passed after her attempt to extract information from Daphne before Black was arrested for Line Theft and was put on trial before the Wizengamot. None of the students had a detailed account of the events and she was not friends if anybody who did. However, she did notice Malfoy running around with a dark cloud hovering over his head and being an even greater bully than usual, a behaviour Moron had adopted in some kind of sick competition.

As she did every time her thoughts ended with her biggest tormentors, Hermione silently thanked the troll incident on Halloween. Sure, she had ended up in a coma for three weeks but that event had helped shape her into the teenager she was.

"Are you going to take that book out?"

The unexpected voice shook Hermione out of her thoughts, causing her head to whiplash to the left to find the source of the dozens of rumours swirling around Hogwarts leaning on the shelf by his shoulder. The Lord Slytherin – according to the Daily Prophet – who had survived an assassination attempt on his life was looking at her with a grin that felt nice.

"Harry-"

"Ares." The boy corrected her in reflex.

"Ares." Hermione repeated.

The boy tilted his head a little, like he was waiting for something

Hermione paused for a moment, before the thought hit her. "Right, err… My name's Hermione Granger."

"Ares James Black." The boy flashed a wry grin. "Now, do you want to take that book?" he nodded towards the tome still half-plucked from the shelf.

Turning back to the shelf, Hermione found her hand holding a book that was pulled halfway out of the shelf. "Oh." She had been too lost in thought and now she was flustered. It was… uncommon for people to talk to her and Slytherins simply avoided her like she was a plague. Now, to have the source of her fascination, rumour-induced migraine and a Slytherin talk to her had thrown her off balance.

A cough from Black shook Hermione out of her thoughts and she pulled the book towards herself. Remembering the question posed her, she replied, "I'm sorry if you wanted to borrow the book but I need it for an assignment."

"If you don't mind," Ares still had a smile, "could you tell me what the assignment is?"

Hermione would have shot him down but the boy had proven to be _really good_ at magic and she wanted to more about him. She had the opportunity to probe his knowledge and knew she was not going to waste it. "I need to inscribe a six foot parchment on the Draught of Living Death and six alterations that could be made to the potion without affecting the potion's shelf life."

Ares mused loudly. "Draught of Living Death, eh?"

Hermione nodded briskly.

"Eh…." Ares rubbed the hairs on the back of his head and gave her a lop-sided grin. "I kind of needed that book for some notes. I've been away for a while as you know and…." He paused for a moment. "Let's trade. I'm pretty sure I know more about the Draught than the book you're holding. I'll help you finish your assignment within the next hour and I can take the book in return."

Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise and cut down her usual answer to such statements from his peers. "Uh… sure."

"Great." Ares grinned.

* * *

 **Back at Black Manor.**

"De… mentors?" Sirius felt faint.

Cassiopeia looked like she would explode in fury while Arcturus was grim.

"Dementors." Perenelle repeated. "In fact, the length of time Ares has managed to stay human is staggering for a human horcrux. The clones of Ekrizdis barely lasted months. I believe it is the combination of Lily Potter's protection combined with his Family Magics and the containment matrix which is keeping the soul shard from turning Ares into those soul devouring abominations."

"I shudder to even imagine what would have happened if the healers had not found-" Cassiopeia began, but Perenelle waved her objection away.

"Even in that situation, I believe the soul shard would merely be more communicative to the boy, inducing Voldemort's influence and turning him into a high functioning psychopath with a proclivity for torturing one's underlings."

"Thank you for that disgusting mental image, Lady Flamel." Arcturus spat distastefully.

"I was just clarifying that the boy's chances of turning into a dementor, at the moment if the variables involved remain unchanging, are next to none." Perenelle shrugged with a grace that briefly mesmerised Sirius before he shook it off. "I would believe it prudent to inform you that a dementor's influence on Ares would be even worse than a witch of wizard with no willpower due to his… status. I dare say that those abominations might consider Ares to be unnatural."

"Right." Sirius had had enough. "While I do believe that my son's luck at avoiding the fate of a dementor or a murderous psychopath _and_ gaining the ability to give a _Kiss of death_ is important, we need to get back to the point we need to discuss."

Perenelle and Cassiopeia had identical frowns of confusion.

Sirius sighed. "What steps do we need to take to prevent Ares from becoming… whatever he might become?"

"I thought you were doing a _fair job_ behind everyone's backs." Cassiopeia snarked.

"I certainly do not intend to keep my son as a patient for the rest of his life, Aunt Cassie. I can't keep worrying about my son turning into… that horcrux when I look away." Sirius fumed. "You could do better than to accuse me of being a bastard."

"That is enough." Arcturus's voice boomed. "We need to find solutions. Not quibble for details like children."

Perenelle intervened before grandson and great-aunt devolved into an argument that gave her a migraine. "I was able to formulate a path that would, in theory, purge the negative aspects of the soul shard while allowing Ares to _gain_ from the ordeal."

"The rituals?" Sirius asked pointedly.

Perenelle pursed her lips in irritation. "After a fashion, yes. The rituals use the unique _ingredients_ present within Ares to give him the edge he needs to purge himself of the soul shard."

"How?" Cassiopeia asked, intrigued.

Perenelle gave the Blacks a pointed look. "This discussion still lies under the secrecy vows we took at the star of this meeting?"

Arcturus nodded.

Perenelle leaned back in her chair. "Ares shall conduct three rituals, all of which are amalgamations of seven rituals each combined by the sheer probabilities enhanced by Parseltongue. The language of the serpents would allow the three individual rituals into act as a unified system empowered by the ancient language."

"Interesting." Arcturus commented. "Parseltongue is native to the Slytherin line. I am correct in assuming that you are invoking the Slytherin Family Magic without the Black or Potter Family Magics?"

"In essence, correct." Perenelle spoke in a no-nonsense tone. "Languages utilised to perform magic are more powerful than those which are not. It is also a known fact that the older the language is, the greater the potential within. The language of the serpents is one of the most ancient tongues and is extremely effective in Runic Thaumaturgy. I am utilising the inherent potential within the language to empower three rituals – one each for the body, mind and soul – though diving rituals for the latter two is a work in progress."

"The mind and the soul?" Cassiopeia asked in confirmation.

Perenelle nodded. "Diving rituals for the mind and soul must be performed with absolute precision with no variable left to chance. There are reasons why there are hundreds of rituals to enhance one's physical and magical abilities yet barely a dozen for the mind and soul."

"… I understand." Arcturus conceded, "Please feel free to ask for any help if you need it. We consider your aide as a debt to the House of Black."

"Your support is appreciated but unnecessary." Perenelle replied smoothly. "Everything I am currently performing for Ares is covered by the Master-Apprenticeship contract. Although I might take you up on your offer in case I require certain… rare ingredients."

"Of course." Arcturus returned in a cold tone, wondering about the conditions of the contract Ares held with Perenelle Flamel.

Cassiopeia was intrigued by the sheer complexity of the solution being utilised by Ares and Perenelle. "At the moment, I am far more interested in the ritual Ares performed under your watch. How did you get him to commit to the ritual?"

"I did not make him do anything." Perenelle spoke with the biting chill of a blizzard. "Ares Black made the decision on his own terms."

"Semantics." Cassiopeia waved her wand in dismissal to the older witch's annoyance.

Perenelle suppressed the urge to do… one of the nastier things she had grown up performing in another life. "The ritual Ares performed has a number of effects on his person and not all of them are immediately visible or can be detected unless the right situation occurs. You have already witnessed his rapid rejuvenation. Expect reinforcement of his physical abilities though I cannot estimate the impact on his animagus form."

"You have yet to mention the most important part of the rituals." Cassiopeia spoke out, much to the other witch's irritation.

"And what have I withheld, Miss Black?"

"The law of equivalence." Cassiopeia stated in a tone of steel. "Everything demands a sacrifice. Considering that a part of the _intended sacrifice_ is wasted in the process of invoking the ritual, it is common theory that the results are always less than the sacrifice performed to attain them."

"And?" Perenelle really wished people could just get to the point.

"Higher rejuvenation ability, greater _reinforcement,_ development of his animagus self and several abilities that are yet to be displayed…" Cassiopeia paused, "I wish to know what my grand-nephew is sacrificing to obtain the abilities."

A cold shudder ran down Sirius's spine.

"Lady Flamel?" Arcturus prodded.

Perenelle took a deep breath. "His sacrifice is a single spell."

The three Blacks blinked, the same thought running through their minds. _WHAT!?_

"My contract with Ares requires me to teach him everything he requires to surpass the Serpent Lords of old and in return, he shall pay me with a single spell." Perenelle's smile sent a shudder down the spines of all the people in the room. "The same spell would also fulfil the requirements of _all the three rituals_ and have enough left over for another seven."

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked, not hiding the level of discomfort he felt at the idea of such a spell being cast by his son, especially when he had no idea of the costs involved. There were spells out there that would sacrifice a person's entire being in return for casting them."

Perenelle looked the portrait of Arcturus Black in the eye and whispered, _"If you need to ask, you shall never know. If you know, you need only ask_."

The portrait paled with mind-numbing horror as it whispered in a broken voice. "No…"

* * *

 **The Hogwarts Library. October 1, 1995.  
**

Hermione acknowledged that any student who spent years in Hogwarts soon became inured to the strangest of things. The list of things which no longer bothered her included moving staircases, talking portraits, mischievous poltergeists and an architectural layout taken straight out of an Escher painting.

After the first time she had lost her way to class, Hermione had made it her mission to map the school in its entirety. A month into the task, the realisation that she had sorely underestimated her task hit her with the force of a fast moving truck. Fortunately, she was not one to balk at hard work and her continued effort paid off in spades, providing her with memorable experiences like a room in the southern corridor of the fourth floor which changed colours every month or the sweet love story shared by the Bloody Baron and another ghost she later learnt was the Grey Lady or migraine inducing experiences like the lone staircase on the eastern corridor of the second floor connecting to the Barnabas the Barmy Tapestry on the Seventh floor.

She had plenty of strange experiences but this evening took the cake for the strangest. It was not the presence of an entire shelf floating above her head or the books that seemed to form strange patterns like four dimensional diagrams.

No, it was the boy talking to her of his own volition and not displaying a single iota of irritation or anger at her questions or tone of condescension for the past thirty minutes.

"This equation explains exactly why the Draught works the way it does." Ares pointed to the open book on the table before Hermione. "See here. That's what the potions uses to cast the illusion on the mind, tricking it into a long term coma. I believe the muggles call it brain-death."

Hermione blinked at the words and refocused her attention on the papers she held. "So the draught pulls a mickey on the human mind?"

Ares grinned. "Something like that. Once it's done pulling the mickey, it induces the biological equivalent of a stasis charm. The combination is potent enough that unless you've got some really good diagnostic charms, you won't find any difference between the victim and the dead."

Nodding in response, Hermione took a few minutes to finish the last three inches of her assignment.

Ares perused the text he borrowed with sharp eyes.

"Done." Hermione signed her work, cast a drying charm and rolled up the parchment before tying it with a length of rope. "Thank you for helping me, Ares."

Ares shrugged. "You're welcome."

Hermione stared at the boy in open curiosity. She did not need to disguise it when Ares knew every student in Hogwarts was interested in the new Lord Slytherin. "You did know an awful lot about the draught."

Ares smiled. "Well, I love to experiment with anything that has magic stamped on it. I love the feeling of success when an experiment comes out right. I absolutely loved that one time where Matty helped me with free Fien-" His smile became strained. "Err… I love to experiment." He knew the finish was lame.

Hermione chuckled. "So why are you in the library?"

"Huh?" Ares really needed to kick himself for the universal boyish response.

Hermione gestured around herself. "From what little goes on the school rumour mill, you always spend time with your friends, mainly Greengrass and Davis for the few days you were at school. So, I'm just wondering where they're absent."

"Oh, so you were _checking me out,_ Miss Granger?" Ares spoke with a haughty tone with his nose pointed up in the manner of a snob.

"You're not that good looking." Hermione retorted.

"Oh?" Ares's eyes took on a calculative gleam that anyone who knew Perenelle Flamel would recognise. "Pray tell, how good looking would I have to be to get _you_ to stare?"

"Hmm…" Hermione put her hand on her chin in mock thought. It was nice to talk to someone who did not find her annoying and was willing to have an intelligent conversation. "Well… you've already got my dorm mates _fantasizing_ about you." She nearly chuckled at the mortified expression on his face. " _Buuuut_ if you wanted my interest, you could try turning yourself into a book."

"I'm insulted." Ares held a hand dramatically to his chest. "I can't believe that you think these half-baked plants are worth more than me. Why I ought to-" The rest of his response went unsaid when he felt the communication mirror in his pocket vibrate. "Excuse me."

Ares stepped away from the table, cast a privacy ward around himself and pulled out the mirror to activate it.

Hermione noticed the communication mirror and did not try to listen knowing the privacy ward would prevent her eavesdropping. After a few minutes where she organised the books on the table, she noticed Ares pocketing the mirror and dropping the privacy ward.

Taking his seat at the table, Ares replied in an apologetic tone, "Sorry about that."

"It was not a problem." Hermione knew better than to pry. It was one of the more conditioned responses she had developed over the years.

"Where were we?"

"You were flirting with me without answering my original question." Hermione deadpanned.

Ares rubbed the back of his neck. "Daphne's mad at me because I sort of ignored her for a while."

"Ignored her?" Hermione was curious now. It was rumoured that Ares and Greengrass were in a relationship and Parvati and Lavender were theorising about them so much that even Hermione was now interested in the matter, if only a little.

Ares winced at her question. "You heard about the little altercation at the Ministry I had?"

Hermione blinked. _Little altercation? Seriously? Was Ares dropped on his head?_ "I read you were involved in a duel with a Wizengamot Lord." _Best not to start with the assassination._

Ares snorted. "Bulstrode's no Lord. He's just a Death eater lackey who didn't have an ounce of planning ability in him. No, I was referring to the-"

"Assassination." Hermione finished for him. "Yes, I read all about it. The Daily Prophet does like to rave and rant about you."

It was an understatement. Ever since the assassination attempt, there had been a flurry of articles in the Daily Prophet about Ares Black, a behaviour that continued for the better part of two weeks. She faintly remembered an article even in today's paper that spoke about some miraculous recovery. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together understood that Rita Skeeter was having a hard time trying to plant _negative impressions_ about Ares Black while ensuring she did not toe the line about a Lord.

"They do, don't they?" Ares chuckled. He had made it a point to get the Daily Prophet even when he was living in Bulgaria. Instant apparation certainly made distances less meaningful for the magical world. He had a good time chuckling over what Rita Skeeter thought of as _**"An unexpected turn of events by which the young Lord was able to miraculously recover from the highly potent venom, though healers are not very… open about Harry Potter's medical situation and his ability to heal. Speculation is rampant and sources tell me that dangerous methods were involved…"**_

The paper certainly revealed Rita's barely concealed efforts at trying to pin a darker shade on him while attempting to not gain the wrath of the general population which was, at the moment, filled with sympathy for the new Lord of Slytherin who had shown himself _noble in character and magnanimous in victory._

Ares smiled. "Any way, I got injured, ended up in the hospital and then spent the past two weeks avoiding my girlfriend. So, she's really mad at me and I still need to find a proper apology."

Hermione grinned, happy that she did not have to deal with the woes of a relationship. "I hope you find it _soon_ before the hexing starts."

Ares winced. "I will." Taking a moment to consider his question, he asked, "Hermione, do you mind if I ask you a question? If you don't want to answer, I won't bring it up."

Hermione frowned but decided there was no harm in listening to the question. "Okay. You can ask me."

Ares was pensive. "I heard of your… feud with Draco Malfoy and Ronald Weasley."

Hermione pursed her lips. "I have to deal with Malfoy and Moron on a daily basis, yes."

"Moron?"

Hermione nodded. "It fits the red haired idiot to a tee."

Ares smiled. 'Why doesn't Malfoy have a nickname?"

"I believe the word Malfoy means ' _Brute, selfish, arrogant ferret of a bastard_ '."

Ares gave a small grin. "I also heard you had an altercation of your own with Draco Malfoy this morning."

Hermione's countenance darkened. While she did not know the entire fiasco surrounding the Black Lordship, she had learned enough to know that Malfoy and his family had taken a heavy hit in social standing. It would certainly explain Malfoy's ridiculous tantrums over the past few weeks and why he had targeted the ' _little mudblood_ ' this morning, burning all her painstakingly prepared notes, homework and bag. It was why she was in the library in the first place.

She shook her head. "It was just a nuisance. Nothing to worry about." Collecting her parchments, she was about wish Ares a good night when the thought struck her. "The _stasis_ function of the Draught, does it apply to active and bleeding wounds?"

Ares raised an eyebrow.

"I'm just wondering if the Draught could be used to slow down internal haemorrhage issues as well, since Madam Pomfrey mentioned that the usual stasis charms don't work on such wounds."

Ares sat unblinking for a moment. "I am reliably certain that it would work on internal haemorrhage, though I admit I haven't quite… treated such a condition with the Draught of the Living Death. There are better spells out there, you know?"

Hermione nodded. "Thank you for that, Ares." Hesitating, she spoke a quiet tone. "I guess I'll be seeing around, then?" She hated sounding so _timid_ at times but this was a student willing to have an actual conversation with her.

"Sure." Ares replied wolfishly.

* * *

 **An hour later…**

Peeves floated his way through the empty corridor on the seventh floor, his eyes maniacal as he whispered madly about the newly discovered bolthole of the Weasley terrors. It had taken him some time but he had finally discovered the secret lair where Fred and George Weasley had stored their collection of dung bombs.

 _Now Peevsie will prank the terrors with their own goods._

His large, tennis-ball-like eyes zoomed all over the corridor, before they suddenly paused, finding something peculiar on the carpet. Picking the little white substance – _boomslang skins_ , he realized - he wondered for a moment who dropped such an ingredient on the floor.

There were no doors, only a blank stretch of wall on either side.

 _Must be the terrors. Planning to make those nosebleeds to get to Peevsie again._ He cackled. _Peevsie will use this on Filch and blame them._

Cackling madly at his accomplishment at foiling the twins' plans, he floated away.

* * *

 **Authors Note: Alright people! It's been a while since me and my fellow author have talked to you. This is to let you know our stories aint abandoned and will get their updates. No, Transcendence is not abandoned.**

 **As for Peverells, we do not have OP characters no matter what our descriptions look like. You must understand those descriptions are given by people whose experience usually consisted of being thrown on their asses like amateurs. So, never take a character's power at face value.**

 **Anyone criticising the strength of Ares Black, remember that he is a fifteen year old and is not going to have as many opportunities to trample the Wizengamot like he did for the last two sessions. He took them by surprise. Remember that.**

 **Note: People in the Peverells verse have an actual brain when compared to their canon counterparts. Do not expect an Ares who will walk over everyone like Batman.**

 **Extra: Peverells is going to have a lot of plots running in tandem or in series as necessary. If anyone has anything they really want to see, send in suggestions. Doesn't matter if it's outrageous.**

 **On that note, see you on the next chapter.**


	18. Green origin

For millennia, the conceptualization and theory behind the existence of Family Magic has been a heavily debated issue amongst scholars and researchers of the wizarding world. While it has always been clear that said magic was esoteric, it was its _oddly sentient nature_ that gave rise to several questions. Another notable point was that only those families who were _directly descended_ from the _five feudal clans_ that ruled the continent prior to the fifth century were able to manifest these oddly peculiar _totems_ and the Magic associated with them. Other families like the Alderic of France, the Cheung of China, or even the Morokov line from Russia, which were just as old if not older than the original five feudal clans, didn't even show a trace of any form of sentient magics in their bloodlines.

Accumulating the decades of research, the general consensus agreed on one thing—the existence of Family Magics were intimately connected with the Five Feudal clans of Europe, namely the Pendragons of Albion, the kingdom of Colchis of Greece, the Solomons of Israel, the Assyrians of Mesopotamia, and the Slytherins of Shamballa.

As per historical records, there are _five_ Most Ancient Houses and _seventeen_ Ancient ones, which descended from the five feudal clans. Interestingly, an overwhelming majority of the above settled in the lands of Britain, sometime in the tenth century, though the most probable cause for that might be the creation of Hogwarts, the first _magical_ institution created to cater for the masses. The concentration of such auspicious bloodlines on the lands of the Pendragon was something that led to the creation of what we know as Wizarding Britain.

By the early thirteenth century, the active push on Family Magic research had literally driven the Ancient and Most Ancient bloodlines against the wall, since every single magical family wanted a part of the _sentient magics_ as well. In their desire to protect their own heritage and legacy, in the year 1257, a legislation was passed, through _unanimous_ consent from all Ancient and Most Ancient Houses, a bill that literally _erased_ any and all information related to their _origin_ from public records.

The legislation was met with general outcry on several fronts. Even ignoring the loss of research, the law literally sealed the fact that there would be _no new_ families that could, or would, _ever ascend_ to the position of _Ancient_ or _Most Ancient,_ since as far as the Wizengamot was concerned, the power to summon a _Family totem_ was absolutely necessary to claim oneself as Ancient or such. The law also made it certain that no magical family, irrespective of their contribution, would ever gain the social status that the Ancients and Most Ancients enjoyed.

That was why, sometime in 1259, the concept of _Noble Houses_ was born.

Since the Ancients had alienated their own name, the social status of _Noble_ became the new benchmark. Houses that made a significant contribution to the world became _Noble Houses._ The Ancient ones who did the same became known as the _Ancient and Noble_ and _Most Ancient and Noble_ Houses.

* * *

 **September 26, 1995.**

The Department of Mysteries, initially known as the _Arcana Cabana,_ is perhaps the most intriguing augmentation to the Ministry of Magic till date. Independently funded by the Wizengamot, the DOM is entrusted with magical research, hiring of prospective researchers, and the like. In order to remove bureaucracy and politics from being a limiting factor, the Wizengamot had declared the DOM completely autonomous in nature.

Much like its inner workings, the real nature of the DOM is shrouded in secrecy. As per the historical records, there lies mention of a treaty made between some _notable names_ of British society, made sometime in the early _fourth century,_ about the existence of an organization whose name would be synonymous to _watchtower in_ modern English. Sometime after the creation of the Arcana Cabana (initially an independently funded group in 1146), the _workings and responsibilities_ of the _watchtower_ were integrated into them, in return for a hefty amount of funding from above _notable families,_ an amount that was at least, _thrice_ of what the DOM normally gets from the Wizengamot as an annual budget. The names changed, the people changed, but even to this date, the Department of Mysteries continues its duties as the _watchtower._

Levina Mintumble, an Unspeakable who had been employed by the DOM for the past thirty-two years, quietly sat in her office, a tiny little cubicle, just like the seventy others that were somehow _packed_ within the very walls of the Department's… _graveyard,_ an entire pocket dimension that held within it, some of the most dangerous _omega-level artefacts_ of the magical world. Levina had never really inquired about it in detail, but the general consensus was that, the artefacts within were deemed _too dangerous_ to stay within the realms of the mortal world. Seventy Unspeakables, including herself, were delegated the job of monitoring _any form of activity_ within the _graveyard,_ and take appropriate actions.

Said _graveyard_ had a somewhat rocky terrain, and at the highest point, which was some sort of a hillock, stood what could be called a behemoth stone archway, with some kind of semi-plasma like alien substance in the mid of it all. Contrary to most other artefacts, this _archway,_ which had been moved into this terrain in 1147, _was peculiar._ For one, it showed _negative_ whenever any instrument scanned it. No signs of gravimetric force, no signs of ambient magics, no signs of energy density, no signs of extra-terrestrial signals, absolutely nothing. For a magical sensor, it was like _the archway didn't exist._ In 1771, an Unspeakable named Eloise had _touched_ the alien substance, one that had instantly pulled her in. She hadn't ever walked out.

In a matter of days, something rather… fishy came out of the investigation. With every single passing second since Eloise had walked into the veil, a tiny bit of information from her magical records had begun fading. By the next three days, the Unspeakable who was once known as Eloise had been erased from the _timeline_ itself. No one had ever heard of her, no one had ever seen her, interacted with her, for the fifty-nine years of her existence. Even her own daughter didn't remember having a mother known as Eloise, at all.

Levina stood up from her chair, as she walked out of the _wall,_ into the rocky terrain. All in all, there were a total of _eleven_ artefacts sitting inside the very terrain, all of them placed amidst powerful wards and bounded fields to secure some form of protection for the Unspeakables.

There used to be _twelve_ though, before the _incident of 1896,_ when _the Mirror of Distortions_ was stolen from this very graveyard. Exactly _twenty-nine days later,_ the stone archway (oddly named as the _Veil of Death),_ demonstrated signs of gravimetric activity, before it threw out immense amounts of _Obscurial energy_ outward for exactly _twenty-nine seconds_ , instantly vaporizing each and every life form within the entire pocket dimension.

Levina slowed her pace, as she stood in front of the Veil, which stood, just as inert as always, the six ward stones placed all around the archway stone-cold, having no reason to flare up. She took a deep sigh, as she recalled the single chime she had gotten from one of the ward stones earlier in the morning, something that had sent the entire team into absolute frenzy, although in hindsight, it might have just as well be a minor fluke.

 _There occur no flukes in the graveyard._ The more cynical part of her mind told her.

She bent in front of the ward stone, her wand barely touching the surface of the quartz crystal, as she muttered several forensic spells, letting out a tiny breath as every single test came out as negative.

 _Maybe it was really a fluke after all._

Levina stood up, as she turned away, taking a step further from the ward stone, when she suddenly felt the hair on her neck rise in response to an energy stimulus. With barely a second reaction time, she instantly leapt down from the hillock, hoping to avoid whatever it was behind her. She had nearly fallen onto the ground when she _stopped in mid-air,_ as fumes dark as the blackest night floated all around her, enveloping her like some form of cocoon. The more curious part of her mind observed how those _odd energies_ had literally held her in temporary petrification. The rest of her mind was crying in agony as she felt the fumes literally _consume_ her consciousness. With exaggerated slowness, the fumes contaminated her very soul, as her eyes shifted into jet black, before she began speaking in an ominous tone.

" _ **Words are like the wind, my friend. Words are like the wind."**_

* * *

 **Exactly one day prior to the incident. September 25, 1995.**

" _Dad, I demand to be taught in accordance to the old ways of our clan."_

Jonathan Greengrass was annoyed. It had been over twenty-seven years that he had taken up the mantle of the Lord of his family, defeating his own elder brother in _mortal combat,_ as per the laws of the Greengrass family ascension. Said elder brother, one Tristan Greengrass, had been an active supporter of the Dark Lord and pledged the family fortune to the Dark Lord's agenda, much to the annoyance of their father. Jonathan, five years younger to Tristan, had recently become a full-fledged Hit-wizard in the Ministry Corps, had openly challenged his brother's action and claimed the right to the Greengrass name.

That was how the _one-handed_ Tristan now lay grounded in Azkaban, amongst the other Death eaters captured before the end of 1981.

The Greengrass family had been born in the aftermath of the disintegration of the line of Solomon back in the early 9th century, almost around the same time as the Houses Nott, Ollivander and the now _dormant_ House of Prince, all of which had been the remnants of the disintegrated line of Solomon like itself. A Solomon descendant had joined in marriage with a Viking back then, enabling the ancestral magics of Solomon to be fused and incorporated into the new line.

That was how the Greengrass family totem, the _bison,_ had come into existence, as had the Greengrass line of magic- an ability to reach down, into the very depths of the ground, and harness that raw, unbridled _power_ beneath the surface, and _shake_ the very earth itself.

How such power had handed over its reigns into the hands of the Greengrass line, no one really knew. Then again, as is with all Ancient or Most Ancient Houses, the origin of _Family Magic_ has been something that has always remained a mystery. The only things the descendants were taught is that this… power, it came with the blood flowing in them, and that was all there was to it.

Contrary to popular opinion, it wasn't quite… mandatory for the _heir_ to _master_ the Family Magic before his/her ascension to the Lordship. On the contrary, most Lords didn't even have the _slightest ideas_ about the true forms of the ancestral magic they wielded, save the very _miniature crash courses_ the previous Lords taught them while they were at the _heir apparent_ stage.

Jonathan himself, had been no different. Family Magic wasn't what one called standard magic. It was powerful, overwhelmingly so. It was raw, unbridled, and esoteric and manifested itself in ways that modern Arithmancy wouldn't be able to make heads or tails of. And the power… it was enticing, enough to take someone with the purest of hearts, corrupt their very nature by the inexplicable taste of its power, and turn them into a screaming, ravaging abyss that left a trail of death and devastation in its wake.

He didn't need to be reminded about the last time a Greengrass had taken the decision to _master_ the Family Magic. Of course, any magical or muggle historian would know about the devastation of 1906, when a single witch _effectuated_ an entire _dormant_ volcano to erupt, nearly destroying the magical island of Naples. The Dark Lady Evangeline, after all, was Jonathan's grand-aunt.

And now, his eldest had come up to him, and using her status as the _heir-apparent,_ made a formal proposal.

" _ **I demand to be taught in accordance to the old ways of our clan."**_

That was six hours ago.

Daphne Greengrass was still sitting in the same room, a few steps away from him, waiting _patiently_ for the _Lord Greengrass_ to either accept or reject her demand. There was little to no reason to even _consider_ the idea that said girl was getting impatient if not for the _slight twitching_ of her eyes every now and then.

"Have you reached a decision?"

Okay, perhaps not so patient after all.

Jonathan turned around, before walking up to the couch where his daughter sat. "Tell me Daphne, what do you possibly hope to gain by this?"

Daphne raised an eyebrow. "I thought that as the heir apparent, it is my duty to learn the family craft."

"Yes, but that's not the reason, is it?" Before his daughter could vehemently protest, Jonathan continued, "You have been my heir apparent ever since your thirteenth birthday, and never once have you been even _remotely interested_ in learning… what was it you called it? _"The KABOOM style of Gryffindorish demolition?"_

Daphne scowled. "Ares is a Slytherin by blood and nature, and even _he's_ all about blowing things up every now and then, and besides, he is _also_ learning his own Family Magics." The thought about her boyfriend seemed to irritate her even further, if the darkened expression of her countenance was any indication. Ares had been released from Saint Mungo's the previous day, and Sirius had taken him home outright, ignoring any and all protests. For all Daphne knew, Sirius might as well have grounded Ares for his _little stunt_ for the rest of the year.

"So this is about _Ares,_ is it not?"

Daphne gritted her teeth in frustration. "Yes."

"I'll ask you again, what _do you possibly_ hope to achieve by learning the Family Magic?"

Daphne glared at him.

Jonathan stared serenely in return.

Silence pervaded for a couple of seconds.

Daphne looked away, let out a sigh of frustration. "Because I…. because I'm tired of being… _useless."_

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "My eldest daughter was the runner-up of the 1994 International Under-17 Duelling Tournament. I hardly believe I would consider her of all people as _useless."_

Daphne shook her head. "You don't understand."

"Then make me."

Daphne sent a half-hearted glare. "It's not about the tournament, Dad. I'm _useless_ when it matters. I was useless back in Romania, and I was-"

"So it is about the attack then."

Daphne's throat constricted. "Yes. It is."

"From what I remember, my dear," Jonathan closed onto his daughter and lifted her chin, looking squarely at her, "I myself, faced _difficulty_ in fighting the assassin and the death-eater at the same time. If not for the… sudden advantages, there was a very good possibility that I myself, would have gotten injured or worse."

"Dad!" Daphne erupted vehemently. "You shouldn't say things like that."

Jonathan smiled. "I taught my daughter to be more pragmatic than that."

Daphne scowled. "That's not the point. At least you were fighting back there. Ares was dealing with three _assassins_ on his own, and he _won,_ Dad, _he won._ And stupid-little-Me was there, hiding behind the barriers, unable to defend someone I call my best friend. If I had not been pig-headed and learnt the family craft like he did for his, I would've been able to do better."

Jonathan looked squarely at her. "Daphne, you do remember the time, when I was… _uncomfortable_ with you developing a… relationship with young Ares?"

Daphne flushed slightly. "Mmmm…hmmm."

"And you do understand that it wasn't out of some misguided sense of protection from the scion of the infamous Black family?"

Daphne nodded again, wondering where it was going.

"The events that happened recently, are the reason for my lack of… acceptance for your relationship back then."

Daphne looked up in surprise. "What do you..?"

Jonathan looked away. "Your friend… Ares, is not… _normal,_ Daphne."

Daphne snorted. "You don't need to convince me about that, Dad. Ares is last person on Earth I would expect to be normal."

"You do not understand." Jonathan refuted.

"Try me." Daphne returned defiantly.

Jonathan sighed. "Let me put it this way. Who are the people… you think, are emotionally close to you _and_ hold a lot of influence on you and your life?"

Daphne frowned at the oddly specific question. "A lot of people… but…"

"How _many?"_

The frown deepened. "At least… seven, but what's your-?"

"And how many people do you think your _best friend_ can say for himself?"

The frown vanished, as her eyes became slightly... nostalgic for a moment.

"… _**For you it's your sister and friends for the school year. For me, it's my classes with Madame Flamel, you know how she's… and maybe some fun with Dad now and then. It isn't like… Miss White has any inclination to be even seen having something even remotely close to fun…."**_

"Four." Daphne revealed in a small voice.

"Four." Jonathan mused, "And pray tell, how many of them is he even remotely attached to, on a... emotional basis?"

The answer was clear and without reservation. "Me and Sirius."

Jonathan pressed closer to his daughter's face. "I want you to remember this. It will be… important in the years to come, if you are _really_ bent on preserving your… relationship."

Daphne was confused. _What did it have to do with-?_ "Dad, is this your way of making me get confused about my reasons of learning Family magic?"

Jonathan sighed. It appeared his way was not going to work. _Let me try something else._ "Daphne, what I want you to understand is that your… _boyfriend_ isn't someone people usually set their bar for excellence."

"Take that back." Daphne barked. "Ares is a perfectly diligent student, the things he has learned-"

"I am _not_ discounting his skill, nor his knowledge or diligence for that matter," Jonathan refuted, "Merlin knows _that boy_ is almost the _concept of diligence_ given human form."

Whatever Daphne had expected in reply, this was certainly not it.

"Ares's _diligence,_ is not natural, and neither is his sense of self or his ambition to learn and absorb knowledge. He's… _distorted, disturbingly so."_

Daphne narrowed her eyes, straightening up.

Jonathan took a step back. "From what I understood from the recent events, you have been complaining to your mother about Ares avoiding you from time to time ever since you two have started Hogwarts, haven't you?"

It was true. Ever since the school term had begun, Ares had gone out of his way to maintain some… privacy between the two of them, often using the vastness of the castle as a barrier between himself and her. Initially, it had been offending to her, but a single discussion between the two of them (which was the nicest way of saying that she had incarcerated him with ropes in the Room of Requirement, forcing him to talk it out), things had gotten clearer.

* * *

" _ **It…. It feels overwhelming, Daph. So many people, all of my age, all the time… it feels as if everyone is bumping into my privacy."**_

" _ **What do you mean? It's not like you didn't face crowds before? France, New York?" She very wisely kept away from mentioning Romania.**_

 _ **Ares looked away, frustrated. "Those were… vacations, Daph, vacations." He looked at her squarely in the face. "That's the only time of the year I meet you, taking a break from my year-long schedule of study."**_

" _ **In case you forgot, I also have a year-long school sess-" Daphne fumed.**_

" _ **Yes, exactly. A year-long session with your sister, your friends and… so many people. I do not. It's only either Madame Flamel or me alone in the library, unless Pad-"**_

" _ **It's not Sirius's fault that you aren't the most exuberant and outgoing kid in town." Daphne refuted hotly.**_

" _ **No," Ares replied in a small voice. "I am, and have always been, a sheltered kid."**_

 _ **It hit her instantly. "Ares, I am—you know I didn't mean to-"**_

" _ **The truth is always harsh." Ares gave a melancholic smile. "I'm… programmed like that, Daph. For me, the entire year is spent between me, myself and my studies. I know that I should be spending time with you, now that I'm in Hogwarts but-"**_

" _ **But in your mind," Daphne continued softly for him, "we meet only on vacations."**_

" _ **I… yes." Ares replied softly, looking away. "I tried to use your friends as a… way to keep others away."**_

" _ **And your antics with Malfoy, Weasley and the animagus form." Daphne led on.**_

" _ **What about that?" He asked in surprise.**_

 _ **Daphne snorted. "I wasn't born yesterday, Ares. I know you. You did that as a way of diverting others away to get your desired privacy." She paused as she regarded him once again, frowning to herself. "I suppose I only have myself to blame, expecting you to act like everyone else, now that you're at Hogwarts."**_

" _ **I… "**_

" _ **Save it." Daphne waved it away, as she dispelled the ropes away from his person.**_

" _ **You are not….?"**_

 _ **Daphne raised an eyebrow. "Angry? No. Irritated, a little bit I guess."**_

" _ **That's a first."**_

 _ **Daphne glared at him, before her glare softened. "From now on, I expect these… tricks of yours to end. If you need time alone, just let me know, so that I don't have to search the seven floors for you."**_

" _ **A monitoring charm would have solved the trick." Ares mumbled.**_

 _ **Daphne raised an eyebrow.**_

" _ **Err… right."**_

* * *

Daphne looked back at her father. "I was…" She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "And we had a talk about it, and cleared things out."

That surprised him. "You did?"

Daphne bobbed her head. "He was being his obtuse self. I bound him with ropes and forced the dimwit to speak up."

Jonathan looked faintly amused.

"And I understand your point about him not being what… _normal people_ of our age usually are, but it still doesn't null the fact that I was next to-"

"Daphne," Jonathan answered, "I am afraid that if you continue to measure _yourself_ keeping _him_ as your bar of excellence, _your_ own concept of the world, the concept of right versus wrong, will be _distorted_ as well."

"There is no right versus wrong, only people and their interpretations." Daphne replied stubbornly.

"Oh, so you would have _killed_ those attackers just as easily as him that day, had you been in his position?"

Daphne opened her mouth. The words came just as easily, but she couldn't speak it. Her throat constricted. _Odd,_ she decided. _Those people were there to kill them. She would have severed their arms off, incarcerating them and then kill them in-_

She paused.

 _Right?_

"Tell me Daphne," Jonathan repeated. "Would you have killed just as easily as him?"

No answer.

"Daphne," Jonathan replied finally. "I understand that you _love_ him, and I have no concerns about that. Should the two of you accept, Sirius and I are planning to settle for a betrothal agreement… by Christmas? I have no apprehension about it. But…" He stressed, "Remember this… Ares has a much _distorted_ view of the world, and with his _severe_ lack of emotional connection with the rest of the world, and his ever-increasing ambition to develop his potential…. Merlin forbid, should something go wrong… that boy may very well turn into something that leaves nothing but death in its wake."

"Dad!" Daphne exclaimed, horrified by his words. "How can you even say that?"

"As a Lord of an Ancient House, and as someone who _truly understands_ the very nature of Family Magic." Jonathan stated clearly. "I understand the effects having that… power in one's own hands does it to their practitioners. There is a reason why most Lords aren't even allowed access to their Family Magic before they are over thirty."

"Ares has been studying them since he was nine." Daphne defended.

"And hence, if you continue to _immerse_ yourself too much into his exploits, attempting to justify his _distorted_ view of things, and it may in return affect your own judgement. From what I know of my eldest daughter," Jonathan continued, "your own way of thought is _contradictory_ to his on various situations, and should you continue to justify his at the cost of your own, you might very well lose your morals for something… unsavoury."

Daphne took a step back, eyes wide in horror.

"So tell me, _heir apparent_ of the line of Greengrass, _why_ do you wish to be taught in accordance to the old ways?"

* * *

 **Sometime later.**

Victoria Greengrass nee Warren had always been a rather passionate woman, overly so for someone who had been sorted to and survived in Slytherin House in the nineteen-seventies. Back at school, everything had been much different, and she had dated Sirius Black for… quite a while, before the two of them had realized that things… didn't work out quite well between them. With the Dark Lord's threat looming, it was… deemed _unsafe_ for the two of them to continue seeing each other, and they had decided to give it a break. A year after her NEWTs, her parents had betrothed her to Jonathan Greengrass, an upstanding hit-wizard from the Ministry Corps and the Lord of the Ancient family of Greengrass.

Looking back at it, her marriage to Jonathan had been successful, considering that he was a caring individual who put his family before everything else. After the Dark Lord's threat had receded, Jonathan had taken an official retirement from Hit-wizard duty and settled down to manage the family business and investments, after the death of his father in 1983, just a year after she had been pregnant with Astoria.

Seeing Sirius Black after all those years in France had been rather surprising, and slightly awkward too. Then again, Black's initial reputation as a _womanizer_ of sorts back at school, along with the rumours and allegations about him being a death-eater in secret and kidnapping the Boy-who-lived had made her worry about Jonathan's reaction to him. Quite understandably, her husband was a little… guarded at first, but Sirius's easy-going attitude as well as his protectiveness for the Potter boy (now Black) had improved the situation in leaps and bounds. The fact that her eldest daughter was now in love with Ares had brought a smug smile on her lips, when she had recognized it for the first time.

And now….

Her line of thought broke down as she recognized the sound of the door opening, as Jonathan walked out with a frown, with Daphne, wearing an undecipherable expression on her face, followed him swiftly behind.

"What's wrong?" She couldn't help but ask.

"Your elder daughter has taken a decision." Jonathan replied grimly, "She has expressed an intent to learn her family craft."

Victoria widened her eyes, as she stared at Daphne. _"Why?"_

Daphne looked away. "My reasons are… my own."

Jonathan pursed his lips. "Well, I seem to have work cut out for me. No point bothering about it when you have a job to do." Turning towards his daughter, he addressed, "Meet me in the backyard in… twenty minutes. We will begin your training."

Daphne nodded.

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, it wasn't a prerequisite for the study of family crafts inside stone-walled dungeons, protected by several layers of bounded fields and wards, so that the family's 'S _anctorum'_ would be protected from not only by those who weren't blood, but from those who weren't the Lord or the heir.

That was what was running in Daphne's mind as she stood on the ground, her bare feet feeling the grass beneath her, as she stood in the wide expanse that was the Greengrass backyard, extending at least a couple of acres from the manor to the outer boundary. Of course, that didn't mean that she couldn't _feel_ the power exuding from the obscure wards her father had activated as he stood, barefooted just like her, a few yards away, staring at her silently.

"When I summon the Family Magic of our line, it will rise and judge you. Should you be able to stand up to its judgement, and should your reason to wield the powers be _significant enough,_ then the Family Spirit might decide to leave my presence and obey your command henceforth."

"But… wouldn't that mean…?" Daphne asked in shock.

"It would." Jonathan replied easily. "As I said, not every Lord of his family needs to embrace the Family Magic, but only a bare minimum which is required for formal purposes. I will still be the Lord of Greengrass for all intents and purposes, but you shall wield the Family crafts, should it judge you worthy."

Daphne stood silent.

"There is no place for hesitation. Once you begin, there is _no going back."_ He paused for a second. "Are you ready?"

Daphne took a deep breath. "I'm ready."

Jonathan nodded, as he raised his hands away until they were farthest from each other, and concentrated, taking in deep breaths. For any normal witch or wizard, it would seem that he was simply meditating, or exercising in the open, but to those _sensitive_ to magical influx, it was anything but that.

Daphne felt her suffocate by the sudden influx of energy that seemed to encompass all around her, flowing through the very air, as the grass leaves swayed in the direction of the magical breeze, the primal magic using the very wind as conduit as it drifted towards the forty-something Lord who didn't seem the slightest worried about it at all.

The rushing flux of magical energy concentrated, as Daphne felt the feeling of suffocation rise further in her, as _actual lines_ of raw energy manifested in front of her father, conjoined into each other, contorting, swelling, expanding and morphing. Dazed and baffled, Daphne watched with growing wonder as the strings of magic condensed to form an ethereal, silvery-green creature, a _bison,_ which grunted at her, flipping its tail back and forth.

Jonathan opened his eyes. "Daphne Victoria Greengrass, it is time you meet the _bison,_ our family totem."

The magnificent construct of pure magic trotted towards her, before stopping right before her person. Dazed, her hand moved up, almost by itself, as she touched the totem which seemed to be… _judging_ her, in some respect. After what seemed to be an eternity, her fingers finally managed to touch its magically constructed fur, as she felt an alien energy course right through her, _devouring her,_ as her eyes brightened, courtesy to the raw power of the blood running through her veins.

"What is this… this…?" Daphne couldn't help but fail trying to even try explaining the feeling rising up in her.

"That is the Family Magic you feel coursing through your veins." Jonathan replied calmly. "The raw power of the very Earth itself." Even his voice seemed to strangely reverberate all around, influenced by the magic he was channelling. "Gaia, Osanyin, Prithvi, Joro, Ra… _I_ have been called many names over many civilizations, the primal spirit of the Earth… I was there to spark and fan the flame of Man's awakening…" A single tear dropped from his left eye and ran down his cheek. "To spin the wheels of civilization… and when the forest of civilization grew unmatched and needed clearing for new growth… I was there… _to set it ablaze_."

A part of her couldn't help but feel mesmerized by the sheer presence which had, in some fashion, possessed her father to communicate with her. Another part of her wanted to run away for the hills with her proverbial tail between her legs.

"And my Dad… is allowing you to talk to me through him?"

Jonathan gave a half-sneer. "A wizard exists _for_ the Family spirit, my dear. You have reversed the concept. _I_ can channel my presence through anyone that holds my power flowing in their veins."

It felt… incredibly awkward. "So I am… speaking to the very source of my Family's magic?"

"In essence… yes." Jonathan replied, as the bison stared at her expressionlessly.

"That's… trippy."

Jonathan just shrugged.

"So tell me… _girl,_ what is the wish that you need fulfilled? What calls you to pick up the mantle that… so many of your ancestors have failed to embrace?"

Daphne looked down to the ground, not wishing to face her father, or the ethereal creature in front of her. "There was an attack… two years ago… in Romania…"

* * *

 _ **If you run fast enough, they won't be able to catch you. If you hide quickly enough, they won't be able to see you. If you-**_

 _ **BOOM!**_

 _ **The entire line of houses in the alley next to the one she stood in exploded in a world of flames and smoke, the wave from the explosion blasting herself back onto the wall as it hit her back hard, making her stump down to the floor.**_

" _ **Daph! Daph we have to-"**_

 _ **The voice failed to make sense to her nearly addled mind, as the horror, the confusion, and the very idea that she would be killed any moment shattering her mental disciplines as her pale face betrayed any emotion except raw, unadulterated fear.**_

" _ **We'll… we'll die." Her mouth speaks, almost on its own.**_

" _ **We'll not." The voice resisted her, as a pair of strong hands held her up from the ground, hugging her hard before pushing her towards a narrow alley, just in time before voracious flames flooded their way through the main lane.**_

 _ **Daphne whimpered, hugging the person even tighter as he held on to her. Her wand fell down from her fingers onto the ground, rolling over to a corner.**_

" _ **Daphne, look at me!"**_

 _ **She opened her eyes, the pale blue pupils still inundated with raw horror, as she took in the image of her friend, her best friend, the one person of her age she trusts beyond all reason.**_

" _ **I'll protect you." He replied, his own face flushed, his eyes blazing, although the fear of death seemed to have sunk down deep within his own eyes as well. "I'll protect you. We'll find the others to get out of here! I swear!"**_

 _ **She flushed, looking hard at his face, as Ares caressed her face.**_

" _ **Now let's get out of here!"**_

 _ **The duo stepped out of the alley, careful not to be in the path of the spell-fire. The entire town had been overlapped with powerful anti-apparation and anti-portkey wards, with Fiendfyre set loose in the town, trapping both the terrorists and the Auror squads amidst the flaming town. The Greengrass family and the Blacks had been there to Oltenia for a vacation amidst a city filled with such cultural heritage, only to find themselves sandwiched between a battle between the Auror squads and the terrorist organization, infamously known as the Black Death, which, from what it seemed, had a base in the city itself. Ares and Daphne had sprinted away from their respective parents towards the more attractive section of the market place, leaving the adults behind, and that was when all hell was gotten loose.**_

 _ **That was yesterday, and since then, Daphne and Ares had been away, hiding away in the desolate lanes, trying to get back to town.**_

" _ **Daph," Ares whispered to her, "We need to get to the entrance. Maybe there would be a Floo operating or something."**_

" _ **I'm not going anywhere without my parents." Daphne repeated stubbornly, a contradiction considering that she herself, was shaken by the magical detonations to her very core.**_

" _ **They wouldn't be there… running around in the streets with this…" He pointed out towards the magical detonations, "going on. The Aurors would have-"**_

" _ **I don't care." Daphne stressed vehemently. "I am not going there until I find my parents."**_

 _ **Ares sighed. "Very well. Stay close."**_

* * *

 _ **The two teens sprinted past the blackened alleys, making sure to avoid the magical traps and detonations and any random spell-fire breaking out from the ongoing battles in the side-alleys, past the fallen bodies of the dead, the mutilated bodies of the unfortunate who had lost their lives, past the broken, injured children who seemed to have found their peace and salvation from their pains in death… they ran on.**_

 _ **Daphne nearly sprained her ankle as she attempted to jump past a boulder, when Ares pulled her over, the duo falling down onto the ground, as a sickly red curse flew right where Daphne's head would have been, before hitting the wall, smashing the bricks into powder.**_

" _ **Look, what do we have here?" A voice sneered. "A pair of lovely kids, trying to get past us."**_

 _ **The duo got off the ground, finding a group of snatchers standing before them. There were six of them, all of them, wands raised and pointed at the teens, smirking. "You two look like pureblood nobles. Will fetch a hefty amount eh?"**_

" _ **Let us go." Ares warned, his wand tightening in his sweaty palm. Daphne picked her wand, which had fallen onto the ground, and raised it at them.**_

" _ **Ah… feisty ones… just like the way I like it." One of the snatchers snorted, giving them an evil grin, before throwing a stunner.**_

 _ **Ares flicked up a shield, as the stunner bounced off harmlessly off it.**_

 _ **The man snarled. "So… you think you've got a fight in ya, do you?" Turning towards one of his men, he snarled. "Get the girl. I'll cripple the boy myself first." With that said, he sent a quick succession of severing curses towards the boy, only to find Ares jumping past the trajectories of the spell fire, and returning with blasting hexes.**_

" _ **Impudent brat…" The man snarled again. "What are you arses doing there? Help me teach this brat a lesson."**_

 _ **Ares had been training with his father for quite some time now, and hence he was quite good with most offensive curses, not counting the immense arsenal of Dark magic he had attained from Cassiopeia's tutoring. However, that knowledge and skill didn't necessarily translate to performance. For one, he was still a fourteen-year-old and not someone whose core had matured, and secondly, he had been actively and continuously using magic since the last day, and all of that had taken a toll on his person.**_

" _ **Gah!" Ares whimpered, as a bone-breaker hit his ankle, smashing him onto the ground, as he fell, being hit by the curse as he had attempted to dodge it midway. Daphne on the other hand, was having difficulty trying to stave off the incoming wrath of the other snatcher, as the four snatchers began firing curses at Ares, who desperately tried to shield himself from it.**_

" _ **Crucio." One of the snatchers yelled, as a beam of sickly red light, twisting its way, shot from his wand towards Daphne who seemed devoid of any knowledge about its trajectory, herself trying to counter against a snatcher with an ice hex.**_

 _ **The sickly red unforgivable tore past the air as it nearly hit her, only for Ares to jump into its path, casting a full-fledged Contego shield, which glowed brightly as several other hexes splashed against its surface, except the unforgivable which tore through it, hitting Ares straight on his chest.**_

" _ **Ares!" Daphne shrieked in horror.**_

" _ **Crucio!" Another snatcher cast in quick succession, as the young teen began to writhe on the ground in despicable agony, caused by the pain of two active Cruciatus curses on his person.**_

" _ **Reducto! Bombarda!" Daphne cried in rage and anguish, through around blasting curses before a langlock hex shut her up, with another flipping hex throwing her onto the ground. Another Incarcerous hit her, tying her hands and feet together, as she lay on the ground, thrashing around helplessly.**_

 _ **Ares had, by this time, almost given in to the pain, as the Cruciatus ceased, presumably because of the fact that he had stopped twitching and was completely devoid of any power in his body.**_

 _ **The four snatchers chortled, as they move past the fallen boulders, kneeling down onto the ground to hold the fallen boy up, as Daphne shrieked in rage and helplessness, unable to do anything from the ground, several steps away. She witnessed in growing horror as one of the men took out his wand and placed it on Ares's temples, as a dark-green shade radiated out of the fallen body, encompassing the four men.**_

* * *

"Fascinating…" Jonathan, still possessed by the _bison,_ exclaimed. "To channel the intent of murder through accidental magic… your mate must be blessed with powers akin to my own."

Daphne ignored the _mate_ reference, her eyes were too busy dripping with tears at the memory. It had been several hours after which the Auror squad had been able to find her, shrieking her lungs out, calling out for someone, anyone to help her… help him. She faintly remembered her mother and father picking her up from the ground before she had lost consciousness.

"That day…" Daphne whispered finally. "I made a promise to myself. Something that has been my heart's true desire, more than any other blessing I could achieve." She paused, staring _directly_ at Jonathan who seemed to stare back at her in deep fascination. _"To save Ares's life one day, no matter what the cost."_

"Fascinating." Jonathan repeated.

Daphne sniffed, her eyes lachrymose. "Three days ago, an attack by the same people… nearly killed my friend once again, and once again, I was there, standing away, unable to help… _useless."_

Another tear dropped down Jonathan's cheek.

Daphne looked back at him, a part of her wondering if the tears were her father's or some… response from the possessing spirit. "I do not want to be _useless_ ever again. I don't want to be _weak_ ever again. I want to master this power… this… magic, so that no one, _ever_ hurts someone I love… _ever again."_

Silence.

"Very well." Jonathan's voice reverberated around her, as he stepped forward, walking up to her. Almost subconsciously, Daphne stepped back in caution.

"Do not fear me, _girl._ If you have it within you… to wield my own power… to be a priestess of the Earth like the great ones, the traces of whose blood runs in your veins… you should cast away all aspersions you have about yourself, and _recreate_ yourself in my image." He held Daphne's right hand, opening her palms, as he made her kneel down onto the floor, her palm touching the earth. "Reach… as deep as you can… feel… the energy flowing through the ground." He stood up, leaving Daphne on the ground, her palm still touching the bare soil. "You will find you have the power to move the very Earth itself."

* * *

 **Meanwhile at Hogwarts. The Headmaster's office. October 1, 1995.  
**

"Is there a reason behind the entire charade, Albus?"

Albus Dumbledore stared at his _long-term friend_ Alastor Moody, Master Auror and one of the most formidable fighters on the planet. Even before _Alastor Moody_ became an Auror, Albus Dumbledore knew him. When he was engaged in a completely disparate profession, something that was as far away from an Auror as possible, Albus Dumbledore _knew_ him.

"Whatever do you mean, Alastor?"

Moody frowned, or well, frowned more than what his normal facial expression was. A rather… _significant_ yet unfortunate incident had occurred in the late 1960's, something that caused Alastor to suffer from irreversible damage in his spinal cord, cutting out any and all control he had over a portion of his facial muscles. The Alastor Moody prior to the accident had been a rather handsome one.

"This charade with Black and his son. First you brought the two of them to Britain, away from their home, and now all of this."

Albus pursed his lips. "It is unfortunate that even you question my ways, old friend." His moustache quivered slightly. "The prophecy marks _Harry Potter_ as the one to vanquish Lord Voldemort, who as you well know, is gone so far into the Dark Arts that even _I_ cannot end him for good."

It was true. Albus Dumbledore had in fact, faced Lord Voldemort in a battle, one that had continued for some fifteen minutes, at the end of which, he had been able to _trap_ the Dark Lord inside a ball of raging fire, using a spell of his own design, and then, gone further to trap the fireball inside a magical construct created to serve as an unbreakable contraption to make sure the Dark Lord wouldn't be able to break out of it.

Lord Voldemort had been _burning_ inside the contraption for hours, before which Dumbledore, not able to keep up with maintaining the entire set of spells, and believing the Dark Lord as dead, had dispersed the spell away.

Everyone had stood, _gaping_ as dense, black liquid flowed out of the now-dispersed flames, before the semi-solid rose up into the air, reforming into the body of the Dark Lord. Bloodied, mutilated, and scorched, but still functioning and alive.

With one single snarl, the Dark Lord had threw out a wandless surge, one filled with magic as dark as the blackest night, radially outward like a wide-area hex. Only Dumbledore and Moody himself had been able to survive the alien power behind the wave. The rest of the Auror teams had been scorched to ashes.

There was after all, a reason, why fifteen years after the Dark Lord's apparent demise, _every single person_ was afraid of even muttering his name.

"And I still do not understand _why_ you think _Harry Potter_ can end him for good."

Albus raised an eyebrow. "He did it once, and sent him flying for fourteen years."

"That doesn't justify your hopes in a teenager, Albus." Moody refuted, raising his voice at Albus's motion to try interrupting him. "Let me finish, Albus. I _agree_ that the boy is powerful, and talented, and is of the Slytherin bloodline. I agree that there are many similarities between him and the Dark Lord as well. I am also willing to ignore the dire possibility that he might just _not want_ to fight against Voldemort as well."

Moody paused. "I will repeat, _what the fuck_ makes you think that a teen can defeat him, when _Albus Dumbledore_ could not?"

Albus _knew_ what to say. He knew _exactly_ what the reason was.

He stared hard at the other man. "Tom believes in the Prophecy, and so do I."

Moody snorted. "And pray tell, what exactly is your… intention behind this… new plan of yours?"

Albus frowned. The plan, as Moody referred, wasn't a _plan_ in the first place. It was simply… him taking advantage of the situation, which would have come to pass regardless of his personal intentions. "You make me sound like some kind of master manipulator, old friend."

"I _cannot believe_ you figured that one out." Moody deadpanned.

Albus snorted. "You are overreacting, Alastor. The International Duelling Tournament is simply being held here in Britain, this year. I am simply… preparing the stage so that Hogwarts can have a solid representation. The previous time, Miss Greengrass turned out as the Runner-Up and she was an _independent duelist._ I am just wishing that this time, Hogwarts would sponsor whoever would be chosen as its representatives for the tournament."

"Right." Alastor drawled. "And it was only out of the goodness of your heart that you tried to put Britain's name into the nomination for venue for this year, which, _completely by happenstance,_ is the year when Ares Black comes running to Hogwarts for his OWLS."

"Completely by happenstance, I assure you." Albus quipped. "I even have a professor for Dueling set up, contracted earlier at the beginning of the year for this very event. I had _no idea_ back then that the Blacks _would,_ in fact, choose to return back to Britain."

"If you say so." Moody returned, not buying it for a second.

"You are overly paranoid, my old friend." Albus smiled at him. "As it turns out, I decided that you and your… _overly aggressive_ style wouldn't suit the art of duelling, and hence, this new professor is there for the same."

"Who's it?"

"Dominic Westmarch." Albus answered freely. "Also, I am planning a miniature duelling tournament amongst the students, and send the top-two finalists as Hogwarts representatives for the tournament, with Hogwarts sponsoring them into the international duelling circuit, should either of them decide to do so. Just like the Triwizard, the finalists would be exempt from taking classes, should they want to invest the time practicing."

Alastor raised his one good eyebrow. "And that isn't…. shall we say, a round-about way of saying that you will be sending Ares Black and… possibly Miss Greengrass once again, for the tournament?" He stood up. "What exactly are you aiming to accomplish with making Ares Black show up his skills on the international stage?"

"Come now, Alastor." Albus quipped. "You say that as if I have already orchestrated the entire thing in advance from a year ago."

Alastor didn't bother to dignify that with a comment.

"For that record… I have to ask, old friend." Dumbledore asked with unusual slowness. "It seems… Sirius Black is rather set on antagonizing me, or at least, that's what it has appeared so far."

 _A classic case of pot calling kettle._ Alastor didn't say.

"What I want to know… is where you stand in this." Dumbledore muttered quietly. "It has always been my intention to make sure that _Harry Potter_ remains safe… and protected, and while I admit Sirius has indeed done the same, and a rather good job at it… chances are the boy's mindset has been… drifted to incorporate the views of the Black family, unlike the Potters like he should have."

 _In short, the boy should've been a philanthropist and self-sacrificing like Charlus Potter, and not a political juggernaut like Arcturus Black._ Moody translated. He had known Charlus Potter while the man was alive, and stood witness to the man's magical prowess and talents on the battlefield. It was almost a pity that a lion like that, had been so… _meek and self-sacrificing (suicidal_ in his opinion) to a point of annoyance. As much as he liked young James, he had been annoyed at the way James seemed to drain his family wealth to supply for the war-effort (the Order missions) without a second thought. The more cynical part of his mind felt somewhat glad that the boy had grown up with Sirius Black, and not James.

"There isn't a point in beating about the bush, Albus." Moody began gruffly. "I'll be candid, and say that I'm no fan of the way you've handled the entire situation from the very beginning."

"I could tell." Albus deadpanned. Ever since the events of Halloween, 1981, Moody had quit the field job, quit the Order, and joined up at the Auror Training Academy as a trainer. It had taken the Triwizard Tournament and the prospect of a dangerous security issue that had all but _forced_ Alastor Moody to _return_ to Albus Dumbledore's world, and take up the position as the DADA instructor at Hogwarts.

"Sirius Black was a celebrated Auror, and one of my best protégés. And you tried to get him arrested because of the words of a half-addled Death eater, who was, by the way, his own brother, and considered him a traitor to the Black name."

"It was a war, and situations turned out to be such, that I felt some concerns over Sirius choosing-"

"Hippogriff Shit, Albus." Moody snorted. "Call me paranoid, but I think differently."

"And what… exactly do you think, old friend?" Albus asked, a rather… disturbing tone to his voice.

"I think…" Moody answered, "—that you wanted the _Boy-who-lived_ under your own thumb, and wanted to make sure that it happened. Did you try to get an innocent man arrested out of spite? Perhaps not. Did you _ignore_ the possibility that Regulus Black's confession might be _erroneous_ in light of _Sirius taking Harry Potter away?_ Perhaps. Would you try to actively strangle Harry Potter from his godfather because of the Prophecy? Perhaps not. Would you make sure that Harry Potter remains a beacon against Voldemort? Perhaps."

Albus raised an eyebrow. Leave it to Alastor Moody to fragment and isolate a single event into several contexts and theorize outcomes. Even he had to admit, the man's paranoia had its perks.

Alastor looked at the Headmaster squarely in the face. "I believe that you are, as usual, ignoring the trees for the forest, not something… uncommon in your list of decisions. There is a reason after all, why _Albus_ is the _only Dumbledore_ left in Britain."

A shadow of something flickered in Albus's eyes, but he refused comment.

Moody gave a wry grin. It was true. Sometime in the early months of 1946, soon after Albus Dumbledore had returned home as a war-hero, having just defeated Gellert Grindelwald and ended the Great War, Aberforth Dumbledore had packed up his lot, sold the keys to the Hogs' Head to one Franklin Abernathy, and left Britain without so much a word. The general opinion was that Aberforth, who had always been left in Albus's shadow, had completely lost his mind in jealousy, in light of his brother's recent achievements, and left Britain for good.

The younger Dumbledore had never been spotted, _anywhere else in the world,_ after that event.

"Irrespective of past history…" Albus began, after clearing his throat loudly, "and returning to the present situation, I believe that I can leave the Inter-House Tournament between your able hands and the soon-to-be joining Professor Westmarch, and hopefully, Hogwarts will have its representatives in time before the International Tournament begins."

He paused for a moment.

"That will be all."


End file.
